^ 


c\j 

LO 


CO 


r'-rV 


ye? 


OJ 


I  ^ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/artoflivingOOgranrich 


The    Art    of  Living 


The  Art  of 

Living 

BY 

"Robert    Grant 

.L...L...L...LJ^....L^J,^I    ,{,    III!,!     \     \ \ \ L 


i      !      !      i      I      !      !      i      i      i      i      I      i      I      i      i      i      i      ! 


# 


^>#* 


j L..J I I L...I I I I L. 


t       :        :       :        t 


I       :       !       ;       ! 


,.L«.l._l 


\       \       \       \       \       \       \       \       \       \       \ 


New    York 
Charles  Scribner" s  Sons 

MDCCCXCIX 


4 

^''l\ 


Copy  right y  1895  and  1899,  by  C harks  Scribner*s  Sons 


Content  s 

f 

Income 

Parti 

I 

Part  II 

f 

The  'Dwelling 

24 

Parti 

33 

Part  II 

f 

53 

Home- 

'Furnishing  and  the  Commissariat 

Part  I 

71 

Part  II 

Education 

85 

Part  I 

100 

Part  II 

Occupation 

118 

Parti 

129 

Part  II 

f 

The  Use  of  Time 

144 

Parti 

162 

Part  II 

181 

[v] 

252594 


Contents 

f 

The  Summer  Problem 

Parti 

203 

Part  II 

f 

The  Case  of  Man 

218 

Parti 

230 

Part  II 

IF 

The  Case  of  Woman 

250 

Parti 

261 

Part  II 

1 

The  Condua  of  Life 

278 

Parti 

290 

Part  II 

309 

[vi] 


Income. 
I. 


R 


ROGERS,  the  book-keeper  for  the 
j.  past  twenty-two  years  of  my 
friend  Patterson,  the  banker,  told 
^  me  the  other  day  that  he  had 
^^^^^^^^  reared  a  family  of  two  boys  and 
three  girls  on  his  annual  salary  of  two  thousand 
two  hundred  dollars;  that  he  had  put  one  of  the 
boys  through  college,  one  through  the  School  of 
Mines,  brought  up  one  of  the  girls  to  be  a  li- 
brarian, given  one  a  coming-out  party  and  a  trous- 
seau, and  that  the  remaining  daughter,  a  home 
body,  was  likely  to  be  the  domestic  sunshine  of 
his  own  and  his  wife's  old  age.  All  this  on  two 
thousand  two  hundred  dollars  a  year. 

Rogers  told  me  with  perfed:  modesty,  with  just 
a  tremor  of  self-satisfadiion  in  his  tone,  as  though, 
all  things  considered,  he  felt  that  he  had  man- 
aged creditably,  yet  not  in  the  least  suggesting 
that  he  regarded  his  performance  as  out  of  the 
common  run  of  happy  household  annals.  He  is 
a  neat-looking,  respedlable,  quiet,  conservative 
little  man,  rising  fifty,  who,  while  in  the  bank, 
invariably  wears  a  nankeen  jacket  all  the  year 

[I  ] 


Thf.    Art    of  Living 

round,  a  narrow  black  necktie  in  winter,  and  a 
narrow  yellow  and  red  pongee  wash  tie  in  sum- 
mer, and  whose  watch  is  no  less  invariably  right 
to  a  second.  As  I  often  drop  in  to  see  Patterson, 
his  employer,  I  depend  upon  it  to  keep  mine 
straight,  and  it  was  while  I  was  setting  my  chro- 
nometer the  other  day  that  he  made  me  the  fore- 
going confidence. 

Frankly,  I  felt  as  though  I  had  been  struck 
with  a  club.  It  happened  to  be  the  first  of  the 
month.  Every  visit  of  the  postman  had  brought 
me  a  fresh  batch  of  bills,  each  one  of  which  was 
a  little  larger  than  I  had  expefted.  I  was  corre- 
spondingly depressed  and  remorseful,  and  had 
been  asking  myself  from  time  to  time  during 
the  day  why  it  need  cost  so  much  to  live.  Yet 
here  was  a  man  who  was  able  to  give  his  daugh- 
ter a  coming-out  party  and  a  trousseau  on  two 
thousand  two  hundred  dollars  a  year.  I  opened 
my  mouth  twice  to  ask  him  how  in  the  name  of 
thrift  he  had  managed  to  do  it,  but  somehow  the 
discrepancy  between  his  expenditures  and  mine 
seemed  such  a  gulf  that  I  was  tongue-tied.  "  I 
suppose,''  he  added  modestly,  "that  I  have  been 
very  fortunate  in  my  little  family.  It  must  indeed 
be  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  to  have  a  thank- 


Income 

less  child/' Gratitude  too  !  Gratitude  and  Shakes- 
peare on  two  thousand  two  hundred  dollars  a 
year.  I  went  my  way  without  a  word. 

There  are  various  ways  of  treating  remorse. 
Some  take  a  Turkish  bath  or  a  pill.  Others, while 
the  day  lasts,  trample  it  under  foot,  and  shut  it 
out  at  night  with  the  bed-clothes.  Neither  course 
has  ever  seemed  to  me  exadly  satisfaftory  or 
manly.  Consequently  I  am  apt  to  entertain  my 
self-reproach  and  reason  with  it,  and  when  one 
begins  to  wonder  why  it  costs  so  much  to  live, 
he  finds  himself  grappling  with  the  entire  pro- 
blem of  civilization,  and  presently  his  hydra  has 
a  hundred  heads.  The  first  of  the  month  is  apt 
to  be  a  sorry  day  for  my  wife  as  well  as  for  me, 
and  I  hastened  on  my  return  home  to  tell  her, 
with  just  a  shadow  of  reproach  in  my  tone,  what 
Mr.  Rogers  had  confided  to  me.  Indeed  I  saw 
fit  to  ask,  "Why  can't  we  do  the  same?" 

"We  could,"  said  Barbara. 

"Then  why  don't  we?" 

"Because  you  would  n't." 

I  had  been  refleding  in  the  brief  interval  be- 
tween my  wife's  first  and  second  replies  that,  in 
the  happy  event  of  our  imitating  Rogers's  exam- 
ple from  this  time  forth  and  forever  more,  I 

[3] 


The    Art    of  Living 

should  be  able  to  lay  up  over  five  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year,  and  that  five  thousand  dollars  a  year 
saved  for  ten  years  would  be  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars— a  very  neat  little  financial  nest  egg.  But 
Barbara's  second  reply  upset  my  calculation  ut- 
terly, and  threw  the  responsibility  of  failure  on 
me  into  the  bargain. 

"  Mr.  Rogers  is  the  salt  of  the  earth,  a  highly 
respeftable  man  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the 
deacon  of  a  church,"  I  remarked  not  altogether 
relevantly.  "Why  should  we  spend  four  times 
as  many  thousand  dollars  a  year  as  he?" 

"I  wonder,"  answered  my  wife,  "if  you  really 
do  appreciate  how  your  friend  Mr.  Rogers  lives. 
I  am  quite  aware  that  you  are  talking  now  for 
eifed — talking  through  your  hat  as  the  children 
say — because  it 's  the  first  of  the  month  and 
you  're  annoyed  that  the  bills  are  worse  than 
ever,  and  I  understand  that  you  don't  for  one 
moment  seriously  entertain  the  hope  that  our 
establishment  can  be  conduced  on  the  same 
basis  as  his.  But  I  should  just  like  to  explain  to 
you  for  once  how  people  who  have  only  twenty- 
two  hundred  dollars  a  year  and  are  the  salt  of 
the  earth  do  live,  if  only  to  convince  you  that 
the  sooner  we  stop  comparing  ourselves  with 
[4] 


Income 

them  the  better.  I  say  ^we'  because  in  my  mo- 
ments of  depression  overthe  household  expenses 
I  catch  myself  doing  the  same  thing.  Our 
butcher's  bill  for  this  month  is  huge,  and  when 
you  came  in  I  was  in  the  throes  of  despair  over 
a  letter  in  the  newspaper  from  a  woman  who  con- 
tends that  a  good  housekeeper  in  modest  circum- 
stances can  provide  an  excellent  dinner  for  her 
family  of  six  persons,  including  soup,  fish,  an 
entree,  meat,  pudding,  dessert,  and  coffee,  for 
fifty-three  cents.  And  she  gives  the  dinner,  which 
at  first  sight  takes  one's  breath  away.  But  after 
you  prune  it  of  celery,  parsley,  salted  peanuts, 
raisins,  red  cabbage,  salad,  and  cheese,  all  there  is 
left  is  bean-soup,  cod  sounds,  fried  liver,  hot  gin- 
gerbread, and  apples." 

"  I  should  dine  down  town,  if  you  set  such 
repasts  before  me,"  I  answered. 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara.  "  And  there  is  a  very 
good  point  of  departure  for  illustrating  the  do- 
mestic economies  of  the  Rogers  family.  Mr.  Rog- 
ers does  dine  down  town.  Not  to  avoid  the  fried 
liver  and  cod  sounds,  for  probably  he  is  partial  to 
them,  but  because  it  is  cheaper.  When  you  take 
what  you  call  your  luncheon,  and  which  is  apt  to 
include  as  much  as  he  eats  in  the  entire  course  of 

[5] 


The    Art    of  Living 

the  day,  Mr.  Rogers  dines  ;  dines  at  a  restaurant 
where  he  can  get  a  modest  meal  for  from  fifteen 
to  twenty-five  cents.  Sometimes  it  is  pea-soup 
and  a  piece  of  squash-pie.  The  next  day  perhaps 
a  mutton-stew  and  a  slice  of  watermelon,  or  boiled 
beef  and  an  eclair.  Mrs.  Rogers  and  the  children 
have  a  pick-up  dinner  at  home,  which  lasts  them 
very  well  until  night,  when  they  and  Rogers  sit 
down  to  browned-hash  mutton  and  a  head  of 
lettuce,  or  honey-comb  tripe  and  corn-cake,  and 
apple-sauce  to  wind  up  with." 

"  That  is  n't  so  very  bad." 

"  Why,  they  have  a  splendid  time.  They  can 
abuse  their  social  acquaintance  and  discuss  family 
secrets  without  fear  of  being  overheard  by  the 
servants  because  they  don't  keep  any  servants  to 
speak  of  Probably  they  keep  one  girl.  Or  per- 
haps Mr.  Rogers  had  a  spinster  sister  who  helped 
with  the  work  for  her  board.  Or  it  may  be  Mrs. 
Rogers  kept  one  while  the  children  were  little ; 
but  after  the  daughters  were  old  enough  to  do  it 
themselves,  they  preferred  not  to  keep  anybody. 
They  live  extremely  happily,  but  the  children 
have  to  double  up,  for  in  their  small  house  it  is 
necessary  to  sleep  two  in  a  room  if  not  a  bed. 
The  girls  make  most  of  their  dresses,  and  the  boys 
[6] 


Income 

never  dream  of  buying  anything  but  ready-made 
clothing.  By  living  in  the  suburbs  they  let  one 
establishment  serve  for  all  seasons,  unless  it  be 
for  the  two  weeks  when  Rogers  gets  his  vacation. 
Then,  if  nobody  has  been  ill  during  the  year,  the 
family  purse  may  stand  the  drain  of  a  stay  at  the 
humblest  watering-place  in  their  vicinity,  or  a 
visit  to  the  farm-house  of  some  relative  in  the 
country.  An  engagement  with  the  dentist  is  a 
serious  disaster,  and  the  plumber  is  kept  at  a  re- 
spectable distance.  The  children  go  to  the  public 
schools,  and  the  only  club  or  organization  to 
which  Mr.  Rogers  belongs  is  a  benefit  associa- 
tion, which  pays  him  so  much  a  week  if  he  is  ill, 
and  would  present  his  family  with  a  few  hundred 
dollars  if  he  were  to  die.  The  son  who  went 
through  college  must  have  got  a  scholarship  or 
taken  pupils.  The  girl  who  married  undoubtedly 
made  the  greater  portion  of  her  trousseau  with 
her  own  needle  ;  and  as  to  the  coming-out  party, 
some  of  the  effefts  of  splendor  and  all  the  de- 
lights of  social  intercourse  can  be  produced  by 
laying  a  white  drugget  on  the  parlor  carpet,  the 
judicious  use  of  half  a  dozen  lemons  and  a  mould 
of  ice-cream  with  angel-cake,  and  by  imposing  on 
the  good  nature  of  a  friend  who  can  play  the  pi- 

[7] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ano  for  dancing.  There,  my  dear,  if  you  are  will- 
ing to  live  like  that,  we  should  be  able  to  get 
along  on  from  twenty-two  to  twenty-five  hun- 
dred dollars  quite  nicely." 

My  wife  was  perfedly  correft  in  her  declara- 
tion that  I  did  not  seriously  entertain  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  imitate  Mr.  Rogers,  worthy  citizen 
and  upright  man  as  I  believe  him  to  be.  I  cer- 
tainly was  in  some  measure  talking  through  my 
hat.  This  was  not  the  first  time  I  had  brought 
home  a  Rogers  to  confront  her.  She  is  used  to 
them  and  aware  that  they  are  chiefly  bogies.  I,  as 
she  knows,  and  indeed  both  of  us,  are  never  in 
quite  a  normal  condition  on  the  first  day  of  the 
month,  and  are  liable,  sometimes  the  one  of  us 
and  sometimes  the  other,  to  indulge  in  vagaries 
and  resolutions  which  by  the  tenth,  when  the 
bills  are  paid,  seem  almost  uncalled  for  or  im- 
pradicable.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  if  a  man 
earns  only  twenty-two  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
and  is  an  honest  man  withal,  he  has  to  live  on  it, 
even  though  he  dines  when  others  take  luncheon, 
and  is  forced  to  avoid  the  dentist  and  the  plumb- 
er. But  a  much  more  serious  problem  confronts 
the  man  who  earns  four  times  as  much  as  Rogers, 
more  serious  because  it  involves  an  alternative. 

[8] 


Income 

Rogers  could  not  very  well  live  on  less  if  he 
tried,  without  feeling  the  stress  of  poverty.  He 
has  lived  at  hard  pan,  so  to  speak.  But  I  could. 
Could  if  I  would,  as  my  wife  has  demonstrated. 
I  am  perfectly  right,  as  she  would  agree,  in  being 
unwilling  to  try  the  experiment;  and  yet  the  con- 
sciousness that  we  spend  a  very  large  sum  of 
money  every  year,  as  compared  with  Rogers  and 
others  like  him,  remains  with  us  even  after  the 
bills  are  paid  and  we  have  exchanged  remorse 
for  contemplation. 

The  moralist,  who  properly  is  always  with  us, 
would  here  insinuate,  perhaps,  that  Rogers  is  hap- 
pier than  I.  But  I  take  issue  with  him  promptly 
and  deny  the  impeachment.  Rogers  may  be  hap- 
pier than  his  employer  Patterson,  because  Patter- 
son, though  the  possessor  of  a  steam-yacht,  has 
a  son  who  has  just  been  through  the  Keeley  cure 
and  a  daughter  who  is  living  apart  from  her  hus- 
band. But  there  are  no  such  flies  in  my  pot  of 
ointment.  I  deny  the  superior  happiness  of  Rogers 
in  entire  consciousness  of  the  moral  beauty  of  his 
home.  I  recognize  him  to  be  an  industrious,  self- 
sacrificing,  kind-hearted,  sagacious  husband  and 
father,  and  I  admit  that  the  pen-pifture  which 
the  moralist  could  draw  of  him  sitting  by  the 

[9] 


The    Art    of  Living 

evening  lamp  in  his  well-worn  dressing  gown, 
with  his  well-darned  feet  adorned  by  carpet-slip- 
pers of  filial  manufadure  supported  by  the  table 
or  a  chair,  would  be  justly  entitled  to  kindle  emo- 
tions of  respecft  and  admiration.  But  why,  after 
all,  should  Rogers,  ensconced  in  the  family  sit- 
ting-room with  the  cat  on  the  hearth,  a  canary 
twittering  in  a  cage  and  scattering  seed  in  one 
corner,  a  sewing-machine  in  the  other,  and  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  comforts  of  home,  consisting 
prominently  of  a  peach-blow  vase,  a  Japanese 
sun  umbrella  and  engravings  of  George  Wash- 
ington and  Horace  Greeley,  be  regarded  as  hap- 
pier than  I  in  my  modern  drawing-room  in  even- 
ing dress  ?  What  is  there  moral  in  the  simplicity 
of  his  frayed  and  somewhat  ugly  establishment 
except  the  spirit  of  contentment  and  the  gentle 
feelings  which  sandify  it  ?  Assuming  that  these 
are  not  lacking  in  my  home,  and  I  believe  they 
are  not,  I  see  no  reason  for  accepting  the  con- 
clusion of  the  moralist.  There  is  a  beauty  of  liv- 
ing which  the  man  with  a  small  income  is  not  apt 
to  compass  under  present  social  conditions,  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. The  dodrine  so  widely  and  vehe- 
mently promulgated  in  America  that  a  Spartan 
[lo] 


Income 

inelegance  of  life  is  the  duty  of  a  leading  citizen, 
seems  to  be  dying  from  inanition ;  and  the  de- 
scendants of  favorite  sons  who  once  triumphed 
by  preaching  and  praftising  it  are  now  outvying 
those  whom  they  were  taught  to  stigmatize  as 
the  effete  civilizations  of  Europe,  in  their  devo- 
tion to  creature  comforts. 

It  seems  to  me  true  that  in  our  day  and  gen- 
eration the  desire  to  live  wisely  here  has  eclipsed 
the  desire  to  live  safely  hereafter.  Moreover,  to 
enjoy  the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof,  if  it  be 
legitimately  within  one's  reach,  has  come  to  be 
recognized  all  the  world  over,  with  a  special  point 
of  view  for  each  nationality,  as  a  cardinal  principle 
of  living  wisely.  We  have  been  the  last  to  recog- 
nize it  here  for  the  reason  that  a  contrary  theory 
of  life  was  for  several  generations  regarded  as  one 
of  the  bulwarks  of  our  Constitution.  Never  was 
the  sympathy  for  the  poor  man  greater  than  it 
is  at  present.  Never  was  there  warmer  interest 
in  his  condition.  The  social  atmosphere  is  rife 
with  theories  and  schemes  for  his  emancipation, 
and  the  best  brains  of  civilization  are  at  work  in 
his  behalf.  But  no  one  wishes  to  be  like  him. 
Canting  churchmen  still  gain  some  credence  by 
the  assertion  that  indigence  here  will  prove  a  sav- 


The    Art    of  Living 

ing  grace  in  the  world  to  come ;  but  the  American 
people,  quick,  when  it  recognizes  that  it  has  been 
fooled,  to  discard  even  a  once  sacred  convidion, 
smiles  to-day  at  the  assumption  that  the  owner 
of  a  log  cabin  is  more  inherently  virtuous  than 
the  owner  of  a  steam-yacht.  Indeed  the  present 
signal  vice  of  democracy  seems  to  be  the  fury  to 
grow  rich,  in  the  mad  struggle  to  accomplish 
which  charafter  and  happiness  are  too  often  sac- 
rificed. But  it  may  be  safely  said  that,  granting 
an  equal  amount  of  virtue  to  Rogers  and  to  me, 
and  that  each  pays  his  bills  promptly,  I  am  a 
more  enviable  individual  in  the  public  eye. 

In  fa6l  the  pressing  problem  which  confronts 
the  civilized  world  to-day  is  the  choice  of  what 
to  have,  for  so  many  things  have  become  neces- 
saries of  existence  which  were  either  done  with- 
out or  undiscovered  in  the  days  of  our  grand- 
mothers, that  only  the  really  opulent  can  have 
everything.  We  sometimes  hear  it  said  that  this 
or  that  person  has  too  much  for  his  own  good. 
The  saying  is  familiar,  and  doubtless  it  is  true 
that  luxury  unappreciated  and  abused  will  cause 
degeneration  ;  but  the  complaint  seems  to  me  to 
be  a  Sunday-school  consoler  for  those  who  have 
too  little  rather  than  a  sound  argument  against 


Income 

great  possessions.  Granting  that  this  or  that  per- 
son referred  to  had  the  moral  fibre  of  Rogers  or 
of  me,  and  were  altogether  an  unexceptionable 
charadler,  how  could  he  have  too  much  for  his 
own  good  ?  Is  the  best  any  too  good  for  any  one 
of  us  ? 

The  sad  part  of  it  is,  however,  that  even  those 
of  us  who  have  four  times,  or  thereabouts,  the 
income  of  Rogers,  are  obliged  to  pick  and  choose 
and  cannot  have  everything.  Then  is  the  oppor- 
tunity for  wisdom  to  step  in  and  make  her  abode 
with  us,  if  she  only  will.  The  perplexity,  the  dis- 
tress, and  too  often  the  downfall  of  those  who 
would  fain  live  wisely,  are  largely  the  dired  re- 
sults of  foolish  or  unintelligent  seledion  on  their 
part.  And  conversely,  is  not  the  secret  of  happy 
modern  living,  the  art  of  knowing  what  to  have 
when  one  cannot  have  everything  there  is  ? 

I  coupled  just  now,  in  allusion  to  Rogers  and 
myself,  virtue  and  punftuaHty  in  the  payment  of 
bills,  as  though  they  were  not  altogether  homo- 
geneous. I  did  so  designedly,  not  because  I  ques- 
tion that  prompt  payment  is  in  the  abstrad:  a 
leading  virtue,  nor  because  I  doubt  that  it  has 
been  absolutely  imperative  for  Rogers,  and  one 
of  the  secrets  of  his  happiness ;  but  because  I 

[  13] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

am  not  entirely  sure  whether,  after  ten  years  of 
prompt  payment  on  the  first  of  every  month  on 
my  part,  I  have  not  been  made  the  sorry  vi6lim 
of  my  own  righteousness,  self-righteousness  I 
might  say,  for  I  have  plumed  myself  on  it  when 
comparing  myself  with  the  ungodly.  Although 
virtuous  aftion  looks  for  no  reward,  the  man  who 
pays  his  bills  as  soon  as  they  are  presented  has 
the  right  to  expeft  that  he  will  not  be  obliged  to 
pay  anything  extra  for  his  honesty.  He  may  not 
hope  for  a  discount,  but  he  does  hope  and  be- 
lieve— at  least  for  a  time — that  beefsteak  paid 
for  within  thirty  days  of  purchase  will  not  be 
taxed  with  the  delinquencies  of  those  who  pay 
tardily  or  not  at  all.  Slowly  but  sadly  I  and  my 
wife  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  butch- 
ers, bakers,  and  candlestick-makers  of  this  great 
Republic  who  provide  for  the  tolerably  well-to- 
do  make  up  their  losses  by  assessing  virtue.  It 
is  a  melancholy  conclusion  for  one  who  has  been 
taught  to  believe  that  pundual  payment  is  the 
first  great  cardinal  principle  of  wise  living,  and 
it  leaves  one  in  rather  a  wobbly  state  of  mind, 
not  as  regards  the  rank  of  the  virtue  in  question, 
but  as  regards  the  desirability  of  stridly  living 
up  to  it  in  practice.  I  have  heard  stated  with 
[  H] 


Income 

authority  that  the  leading  butchers,  grocers,  sta- 
ble-keepers, dry-goods  dealers,  dress-makers, 
florists,  and  plumbers  of  our  great  cities  divide 
the  customers  on  their  books  into  sheep  and 
goats,  so  to  speak ;  and  the  more  prompt  and 
willing  a  sheep,  the  deeper  do  they  plunge  the 
knife.  Let  one  establish  a  reputation  for  prompt 
payment  and  make  a  purchase  on  the  twenty-fifth 
of  the  month,  he  will  receive  on  the  first  of  the 
following  a  bill,  on  the  twentieth,  if  this  be  not 
paid,  a  bill  for  "  account  rendered,"  on  the  first 
of  the  next  month  a  bill  for  "  account  rendered, 
please  remit,"  and  on  the  tenth  a  visit  from  a  col- 
ledor.  On  the  other  hand  I  have  known  people 
who  seem  to  live  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and  to 
keep  the  tradesfolk  in  obsequious  awe  of  them 
by  force  of  letting  their  bills  run  indefinitely. 

Abroad,  as  many  of  us  know,  the  status  of  the 
matter  is  very  difi^erent.  There  interest  is  fig- 
ured in  advance,  and  those  who  pay  promptly 
get  a  handsome  discount  on  the  face  of  their  bills. 
While  this  custom  may  seem  to  encourage  debt, 
it  is  at  least  a  mutual  arrangement,  and  seems  to 
have  proved  satisfactory,  to  judge  from  the  faft 
that  the  fashionable  tailors  and  dress-makers  of 
London  and  Paris  are  apt  to  demur  or  shrug 

[  15] 


The    Art    of  Living 

their  shoulders  at  immediate  payment,  and  to  be 
rather  embarrassingly  grateful  if  their  accounts 
are  settled  by  the  end  of  a  year.  No  one  would 
wish  to  change  the  national  inclination  of  upright 
people  on  this  side  of  the  water  to  pay  on  the 
spot,  but  the  master  and  mistress  of  an  establish- 
ment may  well  consider  whether  the  fashionable 
tradesmen  ought  to  oblige  them  to  bear  the  entire 
penalty  of  being  sheep  instead  of  goats.  With 
this  qualification,  which  is  set  forth  rather  as  a 
caveat  than  a  dodrine,  the  prompt  payment  of 
one's  bills  seems  to  be  striftly  co-ordinate  with 
virtue,  and  may  be  properly  described  as  the 
corner-stone  of  wise  modern  living. 

There  are  so  many  things  which  one  has  to 
have  nowadays  in  order  to  be  comfortable  that 
it  seems  almost  improvident  to  inquire  how  much 
one  ought  to  save  before  facing  the  question  of 
what  one  can  possibly  do  without.  Here  the  peo- 
ple who  are  said  to  have  too  much  for  their  own 
good  have  an  advantage  over  the  rest  of  us.  The 
future  of  their  children  is  secure.  If  they  dread 
death  it  is  not  because  they  fear  to  leave  their 
wives  and  children  unprovided  for.  Many  of 
them  go  on  saving,  just  the  same,  and  talk  poor 
if  a  railroad  lowers  a  dividend,  or  there  is  not  a 
[  i6] 


Income 

ready  market  for  their  real  estate  at  an  exalted 
profit.  Are  there  more  irritating  men  or  women 
in  the  world  than  the  over-conservative  persons 
of  large  means  who  are  perpetually  harping  on 
saving,  and  worrying  lest  they  may  not  be  able 
to  put  by  for  a  rainy  day,  as  they  call  it,  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  or  more  of  their  annual  income  ? 
The  capitalist,  careworn  by  solicitude  of  this  sort, 
is  the  one  fool  in  creation  who  is  not  entitled  to 
some  morsel  of  pity. 

How  much  ought  the  rest  of  us  to  save  ?  I 
know  a  man — now  you  do  not  know  him,  and 
there  is  no  use  in  racking  your  brains  to  discover 
who  he  is,  which  seems  to  be  a  principal  motive 
for  reading  books  nowadays,  as  though  we 
writers  had  a  cabinet  photograph  in  our  mind's 
eye  whenever  we  took  a  pen  in  hand.  I  know  a 
man  who  divides  his  income  into  parts.  "  All 
Gaul  is  divided  into  three  parts,"  you  will  re- 
member we  read  in  the  classics.  Well,  my  friend, 
whom  we  will  call  Julius  Caesar  for  convenience 
and  mystification,  divides  his  income,  on  the 
first  of  January,  into  a  certain  number  of  parts 
or  portions.  He  and  his  wife  have  a  very  absorb- 
ing and  earnest  pow-wow  over  it  annually.  They 
take  the  matter  very  seriously,  and  burn  the  mid- 

[17] 


The    Art    of  Living 

night  oil  in  the  sober  endeavor  to  map  and  fig- 
ure out  in  advance  a  wise  and  unselfish  exhibit. 
So  much  and  no  more  fi3r  rent,  so  much  for  ser- 
vants, so  much  for  household  supplies,  so  much 
for  clothes,  so  much  for  amusements,  so  much  for 
charity,  so  much  to  meet  unlooked-for  contin- 
gencies, and  so  much  for  investment.  By  the  time 
the  exhibit  is  finished  it  is  mathematically  and 
ethically  irreproachable,  and,  what  is  more,  Ju- 
lius Caesar  and  his  wife  live  up  to  it  so  faithfully 
that  they  are  sure  to  have  some  eight  or  ten  dol- 
lars to  the  good  on  the  morning  of  December 
thirty-first,  which  they  commonly  expend  in  a 
pair  of  canvas-back  ducks  and  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne, for  which  they  pay  cash,  in  reward  for 
their  own  virtue  and  to  enable  them  at  the  stroke 
of  midnight  to  submit  to  their  own  consciences 
a  trial  balance  accurate  to  a  cent. 

Now  it  should  be  stated  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Julius  Caesar  are  not  very  busy  people  in  other 
respeds,  and  that  their  annual  income,  which  is 
fifteen  thousand  dollars,  and  chiefly  rent  from 
improved  real  estate  in  the  hands  of  a  trustee, 
flows  on  as  regularly  and  surely  as  a  river. 
Wherefore  it  might  perhaps  be  argued,  if  one 
were  disposed  to  be  sardonic,  that  this  arith- 

[  18] 


Income 

metical  system  of  life  under  the  circumstances 
savors  of  a  fad,  and  that  Julius  and  his  wife  take 
themselves  and  their  occupation  a  trifle  too  se- 
riously, especially  as  they  have  both  been  known 
to  inform,  solemnly  and  augustly,  more  than 
one  acquaintance  who  was  struggling  for  a  liv- 
ing, that  it  is  every  one's  duty  to  lay  up  at  least 
one-tenth  of  his  income  and  give  at  least  another 
tenth  in  charity.  And  yet,  when  one  has  ceased 
to  smile  at  the  antics  of  this  pair,  the  conscious- 
ness remains  that  they  are  right  in  their  pradlice 
of  foresight  and  arithmetical  apportioning,  and 
that  one  who  would  live  wisely  should,  if  pos- 
sible, decide  in  advance  how  much  he  intends  to 
give  to  the  poor  or  put  into  the  bank.  Other- 
wise he  is  morally,  or  rather  immorally,  certain 
to  spend  everything,  and  to  suffer  disagreeable 
qualms  instead  of  enjoying  canvas-back  ducks 
and  a  bottle  of  champagne  on  December  thirty- 
first. 

As  to  what  that  much  or  little  to  be  given 
and  to  be  saved  shall  be,  there  is  more  room  for 
discussion.  Julius  Caesar  and  his  wife  have  de- 
clared in  favor  of  a  tenth  for  each,  which  in 
their  case  means  fifteen  hundred  dollars  given, 
and  fifteen  hundred  dollars  saved,  which  leaves 

[  19  ] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

them  a  net  income  of  twelve  thousand  dollars 
to  spend,  and  they  have  no  children.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  if  every  man  with  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year  and  a  family  were  to  give 
away  three  hundred  dollars,  and  prudently  in- 
vest seven  hundred  dollars,  charity  would  not 
suffer  so  long  as  at  present,  and  would  be  no 
less  kind.  Unquestionably  those  of  us  who  come 
out  on  December  thirty-first  just  even,  or  eight 
or  nine  dollars  behind  instead  of  ahead,  and 
would  have  been  able  to  spend  a  thousand  or 
two  more,  are  the  ones  who  find  charity  and  sav- 
ing so  difficult.  Our  friends  who  are  said  to  have 
too  much  for  their  own  good  help  to  found  a 
hospital  or  send  a  deserving  youth  through 
college  without  winking.  It  costs  them  merely 
the  trouble  of  signing  a  check.  But  it  behooves 
those  who  have  only  four  instead  of  forty  times 
as  much  as  Rogers,  if  they  wish  to  do  their  share 
in  relieving  the  needs  of  others,  to  do  so  prompt- 
ly and  systematically  before  the  fine  edge  of  the 
good  resolutions  formed  on  the  first  of  January 
is  dulled  by  the  pressure  of  a  steadily  depleted 
bank  account,  and  a  steadily  increasing  array  of 
bills.  Charity,  indeed,  is  more  difficult  for  us  to 
pra6lise  than  saving,  for  the  simplest  method  of 
[ao] 


Income 

saving,  life  insurance,  is  enforced  by  the  "stand 
and  deliver''  argument  of  an  annual  premium. 
Only  he,  who  before  the  first  crocus  thrusts  its 
gentle  head  above  the  winter's  snow  has  sent  his 
check  to  the  needy,  and  who  can  conscientiously 
hang  upon  his  office  door  "Fully  insured;  life 
insurance  agents  need  not  apply,"  is  in  a  posi- 
tion to  face  with  a  calm  mind  the  fall  of  the  leaf 
and  the  Decem)3er  days  when  conscience,  quick- 
ened by  the  dying  year,  inquires  what  we  have 
done  for  our  neighbor,  and  how  the  wife  and  the 
little  ones  would  fare  if  we  should  be  cut  down 
in  the  strength  of  our  manhood. 

And  yet,  too,  important  as  saving  is,  there 
are  so  many  things  which  we  must  have  for  the 
sake  of  this  same  wife  and  the  little  ones  that 
we  cannot  affi3rd  to  save  too  much.  Are  we  to 
toil  and  moil  all  our  days,  go  without  fresh  but- 
ter and  never  take  six  weeks  in  Europe  or  Japan 
because  we  wish  to  make  sure  that  our  sons  and 
daughters  will  be  amply  provided  for,  as  the 
obituary  notices  put  it  ?  Some  men  with  daugh- 
ters only  have  a  craze  of  saving  so  that  this  one 
earthly  life  becomes  a  rasping,  worrying  ordeal, 
which  is  only  too  apt  to  find  an  end  in  the 
coolness  of  a  premature  grave.  My  friend  Per- 

[.I  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

kins — here  is  another  chance,  identity  seekers, 
to  wonder  who  Perkins  really  is — the  father  of 
four  girls,  is  a  thin,  nervous  lawyer,  who  ought 
to  take  a  proper  vacation  every  summer;  but 
he  rarely  does,  and  the  reason  seems  to  be  that 
he  is  saddled  by  the  idea  that  to  bring  a  girl  up 
in  luxury  and  leave  her  with  anything  less  than 
five  thousand  dollars  a  year  is  a  piece  of  pater- 
nal brutality.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  father  ought 
in  the  first  place  to  remember  that  some  girls 
marry.  I  reminded  Perkins  of  this  one  day. 
"Some  don't,"  he  answered  mournfully.  "Mar- 
riage does  not  run  in  the  female  Perkins  line.  The 
chances  are  that  two  of  my  four  will  never  marry. 
They  might  be  able  to  get  along,  if  they  lived  to- 
gether and  were  careful,  on  seven  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year,  and  I  must  leave  them  that  some- 
how." "Hoot  toot,"  said  I,  "that  seems  to  me 
nonsense.  Don't  let  the  spedre  of  decayed  gen- 
tlewomen hound  you  into  dyspepsia  or  Bright's 
disease,  but  give  yourself  a  chance  and  trust  to 
your  girls  to  look  out  for  themselves.  There  are 
so  many  things  for  women  to  do  now  besides 
marry  or  pot  jam,  that  a  fond  father  ought  to  let 
his  nervous  system  recuperate  now  and  then." 
"  I  suppose  you  mean  that  they  might  become 

[22] 


Income 

teachers  or  physicians  or  hospital  nurses  or  type- 
writers/* said  Perkins.  "Declined  with  thanks." 
"Don't  you  think,"  I  inquired  with  a  little 
irritation,  "that  they  would  be  happier  so  than 
in  doing  nothing  on  a  fixed  income,  in  simply 
being  mildly  cultivated  and  philanthropic  on 
dividends,  in  moving  to  the  sea-side  in  summer 
and  back  again  in  the  autumn,  and  in  dying  at 
the  last  of  some  fashionable  ailment?" 
"No,  I  don't,"  said  Perkins.  "Do  you  ?" 
Were  I  to  repeat  my  answer  to  this  inquiry  I 
should  be  inviting  a  discussion  on  woman,  which 
is  not  in  place  at  this  stage  of  our  refledions. 
Let  me  say,  though,  that  I  am  still  of  the  opin- 
ion that  Perkins  ought  to  give  his  nervous  sys- 
tem a  chance  and  not  worry  so  much  about  his 
daughters. 


[23] 


Income, 
II. 


^^^^^^EEING  that  there  are  so  many 
^m  q  g^  things  to  have  and  that  we  cannot 
^^^p.^^  have  everything,  what  are  we  to 
^^^S^^  choose  ?  I  have  sometimes,  while 
trudging  along  in  the  sleighing  season,  noticed 
that  many  men,  whose  income  I  believe  to  be 
much  smaller  than  mine,  were  able  to  ride  be- 
hind fast  trotters  in  fur  overcoats.  The  reason 
upon  refledion  was  obvious  to  me.  Men  of  a 
certain  class  regard  a  diamond  pin,  a  fur  over- 
coat, and  a  fast  horse  as  the  first  necessaries  of 
existence  after  a  bed,  a  hair-brush  and  one  maid- 
of-all-work.  In  other  words,  they  are  willing  to 
live  in  an  inexpensive  locality,  with  no  regard 
to  plumbing,  society,  or  art,  to  have  their  food 
dropped  upon  the  table,  and  to  let  their  wives 
and  daughters  live  with  shopping  as  the  one 
bright  spot  in  the  month's  horizon,  if  only  they, 
the  husbands  and  fathers,  can  satisfy  the  three- 
headed  ruling  ambition  in  question.  The  men 
to  whom  I  am  referring  have  not  the  moral  or 
aesthetic  tone  of  Rogers  and  myself,  and  belong 
to  quite  a  distind:  class  of  society  from  either  of 
[^4] 


Income 

us.  But  among  the  friends  of  both  of  us  there 
are  people  who  ad:  on  precisely  the  same  prin- 
ciple. A  fine  sense  of  seledion  ought  to  govern 
the  expenditure  of  income,  and  the  wise  man 
will  refrain  from  buying  a  steam-yacht  for  him- 
self or  a  diamond  crescent  for  his  wife  before  he 
has  secured  a  home  with  modern  conveniences, 
an  efficient  staff  of  servants,  a  carefully  chosen 
family  physician,  a  summer  home,  or  an  ample 
margin  wherewith  to  hire  one,  the  best  educa- 
tional advantages  for  his  children  which  the  com- 
munity will  afford,  and  choice  social  surround- 
ings. In  order  to  have  these  comfortably  and 
completely,  and  still  not  to  be  within  sailing  dis- 
tance, so  to  speak,  of  a  steam-yacht,  one  needs 
to  have  nowadays — certainly  in  large  cities — 
an  income  of  from  seven  thousand  to  eleven 
thousand  dollars,  according  to  where  one  lives. 
I  make  this  assertion  in  the  face  of  the  fad  that 
our  legislators  all  over  the  country  annually 
decree  that  from  four  to  five  thousand  dollars  a 
year  is  a  fat  salary  in  reward  for  public  service, 
and  that  an  official  with  a  family  who  is  given 
twenty-five  hundred  or  three  thousand  is  to  be 
envied.  Envied  by  whom,  pray  ?  By  the  plough- 
man, the  horse-car  conductor,  and  the  corner 


The    Art    of  Living 

grocery  man,  may  be,  but  not  by  the  average 
business  or  professional  man  who  is  doing  well. 
To  be  sure,  five  thousand  dollars  in  a  country 
town  is  affluence,  if  the  beneficiary  is  content  to 
stay  there ;  but  in  a  city  the  family  man  with 
only  that  income,  provided  he  is  ambitious,  can 
only  just  live,  and  might  fairly  be  described  as 
the  cousin  german  to  a  mendicant.  And  yet  there 
are  some  worthy  citizens  still,  who  doubtless 
would  be  aghast  at  these  statements,  and  would 
wish  to  know  how  one  is  to  spend  five  thousand 
dollars  a  year  without  extravagance.  We  certainly 
did  start  in  this  country  on  a  very  different  ba- 
sis, and  the  doftrine  of  plain  living  was  written 
between  the  lines  of  the  Constitution.  We  were 
practically  to  do  our  own  work,  to  be  content 
with  pie  and  doughnuts  as  the  staple  articles  of 
nutrition,  to  abide  in  one  locality  all  the  year 
round,  and  to  eschew  color,  ornament,  and  refined 
recreation.  All  this  as  an  improvement  over  the 
civilization  of  Europe  and  a  rebuke  to  it.  What- 
ever the  ethical  value  of  this  theory  of  existence 
in  moulding  the  national  character  may  have 
been,  it  has  lost  its  hold  to-day,  and  we  as  a 
nation  have  fallen  into  line  with  the  once  sneered- 
at  older  civilizations,  though  we  honestly  believe 

[26] 


Income 

that  we  are  giving  and  going  to  give  a  peculiar 
redeeming  brand  to  the  adopted,  venerable  cus- 
toms which  will  purge  them  of  dross  and  bale. 
Take  the  servant  question,  for  instance.  We 
are  perpetually  discussing  how  we  are  to  do  away 
with  the  social  reproach  which  keeps  native 
American  women  out  of  domestic  service ;  yet 
at  the  same  time  in  adlual  pradtice  the  demand 
for  servants  grows  more  and  more  urgent  and 
wide-spread,  and  they  are  consigned  still  more 
hopelessly,  though  kindly,  to  the  kitchen  and 
servants'  hall  in  imitation  of  English  upper-class 
life.  In  the  days  when  our  Emerson  sought  to 
practise  the  social  equality  for  which  he  yearned, 
by  requiring  his  maids  to  sit  at  his  own  dinner- 
table,  a  domestic  establishment  was  a  modest  af- 
fair of  a  cook  and  a  second  girl.  Now,  the  people 
who  are  said  to  have  too  much  for  their  own 
good,  keep  butlers,  ladies'  maids,  governesses, 
who  like  Mahomet's  coffin  hover  between  the 
parlor  and  the  kitchen,  superfine  laundresses, 
pages  in  buttons,  and  other  housekeeping  ac- 
cessories, and  domestic  life  grows  bravely  more 
and  more  complex.  To  be  sure,  too,  I  am  quite 
aware  that,  as  society  is  at  present  constituted, 
only  a  comparatively  small  number  out  of  our 

[^7] 


T'he    Art    of  Living 

millions  of  free-born  American  citizens  have  or 
are  able  to  earn  the  seven  to  eleven  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year  requisite  for  thorough  comfort,  and 
that  the  most  interesting  and  serious  problem 
which  confronts  human  society  to-day  is  the  an- 
nihilation or  lessening  of  the  terrible  existing  in- 
equalities in  estate  and  welfare. 

This  problem,  absorbing  as  it  is,  can  scarcely 
be  solved  in  our  time.  But,  whatever  the  solu- 
tion, whether  by  socialism,  government  control, 
or  brotherly  love,  is  it  not  safe  to  assume  that 
when  every  one  shares  alike,  society  is  not  going 
to  be  satisfied  with  humble,  paltry,  or  ugly  con- 
ditions as  the  universal  weal  ?  If  the  new  dispen- 
sation does  not  provide  a  style  and  manner  of 
living  at  least  equal  in  comfort,  luxury,  and  re- 
finement to  that  which  exists  among  the  well- 
to-do  to-day,  it  will  be  a  failure.  Humanity  will 
never  consent  to  be  shut  oflT  from  the  best  in 
order  to  be  exempt  from  the  worst.  The  millen- 
nium must  supply  not  merely  bread  and  butter,  a 
house,  a  pig,  a  cow,  and  a  sewing-machine  for 
every  one,  but  attraftive  homes,  gardens,  and 
galleries,  literature  and  music,  and  all  the  range 
of  aesthetic  social  adjunds  which  tend  to  pro- 
mote healthy  bodies,  delightful  manners,  fine 

[28] 


Income 

sensibilities,  and  noble  purposes,  or  it  will  be  no 
millennium. 

Therefore  one  who  would  live  wisely  and  has 
the  present  means,  though  he  may  deplore  exist- 
ing misery  and  seek  to  relieve  it,  does  not  give 
away  to  others  all  his  substance  but  spends  it 
chiefly  on  himself  and  his  family  until  he  has  sat- 
isfied certain  needs.  By  way  of  a  house  he  feels 
that  he  requires  not  merely  a  frail,  unornamental 
shelter,  but  a  carefully  constructed,  well  venti- 
lated, cosily  and  artistically  furnished  dwelling, 
where  his  family  will  neither  be  scrimped  for 
space  nor  exposed  to  discomforts,  and  where  he 
can  entertain  his  friends  tastefully  if  not  with  ele- 
gance. All  this  costs  money  and  involves  large 
and  recurrent  outlays  for  heating,  lighting,  up- 
holstery, sanitary  appliances,  silver,  china,  and 
glass.  It  is  not  sufficient  for  him  that  his  chil- 
dren should  be  sure  of  their  own  father ;  he  is 
solicitous,  besides,  that  they  should  grow  up  as 
free  as  possible  from  physical  blemishes,  and 
mentally  and  spiritually  sound  and  attractive. 
To  promote  this  he  must  needs  consult  or  en- 
gage from  time  to  time  skilled  specialists,  den- 
tists, oculists,  dancing  and  drawing  masters,  pri- 
vate tutors,  and  music-teachers.  To  enable  these 

[29] 


The    Art    of  Living 

same  sons  and  daughters  to  make  the  most  of 
themselves,  he  must,  during  their  early  man- 
hood and  womanhood,  enable  them  to  pursue 
professional  or  other  studies,  to  travel,  and  to 
mingle  in  cultivated  and  well-bred  society.  He 
must  live  in  a  choice  neighborhood  that  he  may 
surround  himself  and  his  family  with  refining 
influences,  and  accordingly  he  must  pay  from 
twelve  hundred  to  twenty-five  hundred  or  three 
thousand  dollars  a  year  for  rent,  according  to  the 
size  and  desirability  of  the  premises.  Unless  he 
would  have  his  wife  and  daughters  merely  house- 
hold faftors  and  drudges,  he  must  keep  from 
three  to  five  or  six  servants,  whose  wages  vary 
from  four  to  six  or  seven  dollars  a  week,  and 
feed  them. 

Nor  can  the  athletic,  aesthetic,  or  merely  plea- 
surable needs  of  a  growing  or  adolescent  house- 
hold be  ignored.  He  must  meet  the  steady  and 
relentless  drain  from  each  of  these  sources,  or  be 
conscious  that  his  flesh  and  blood  have  not  the 
same  advantages  and  opportunities  which  are  en- 
joyed by  their  contemporaries.  He  must  own  a 
pew,  a  library  share,  a  fancy  dress  costume,  and 
a  cemetery  lot,  and  he  must  always  have  loose 
change  on  hand  for  the  hotel  waiter  and  the  col- 

[30] 


Income 

ored  railway  porter.  The  family  man  in  a  large 
city  who  meets  these  several  demands  to  his 
entire  satisfadion  will  have  little  often  thousand 
dollars  left  for  the  purchase  of  a  trotter,  a  fur 
overcoat,  and  a  diamond  pin. 

The  growing  consciousness  of  the  value  of 
these  complex  demands  of  our  modern  civiliza- 
tion, when  intelligently  gratified,  ads  at  the  pre- 
sent day  as  a  cogent  incentive  to  make  money,  not 
for  the  mere  sake  of  accumulation,  but  to  spend. 
Gross  accumulation  with  scant  expenditure  has 
always  been  sandioned  here ;  but  to  grow  rich 
and  yet  be  lavish  has  only  within  a  compara- 
tively recent  period  among  us  seemed  reconcil- 
able with  religious  or  national  principles.  Even 
yet  he  who  many  times  a  millionaire  still  walks 
unkempt,  or  merely  plain  and  honest,  has  not  en- 
tirely lost  the  halo  of  hero  worship.  But,  though 
the  old  man  is  permitted  to  do  as  he  prefers,  bet- 
ter things  are  demanded  of  his  sons  and  daugh- 
ters. Nor  can  the  argument  that  some  of  the 
greatest  men  in  our  history  have  been  nurtured 
and  brought  up  in  cabins  and  away  from  refin- 
ing influences  be  soundly  used  against  the  ad- 
visability of  making  the  most  of  income,  even 
though  we  now  and  then  ask  ourselves  whether 

[31  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

modern  living  is  producing  statesmen  of  equally 
firm  mould.  But  we  thrill  no  longer  at  mention 
of  a  log  cabin  or  rail  splitting,  and  the  very  name 
of  hard  cider  suggests  rather  unpleasantly  the 
corner  grocery  store  and  the  pie-permeated,  hair- 
cloth suited  New  England  parlor. 

Merely  because  other  nations  have  long  been 
aware  that  it  was  wise  and  not  immoral  to  try 
to  live  comfortably  and  beautifully  our  change 
of  faith  is  no  less  absorbing  to  us.  We  confi- 
dently expeft  to  win  fresh  laurels  by  our  origi- 
nality, intelligence,  and  unselfishness  in  this  new 
old  field.  Already  have  we  made  such  strides 
that  our  establishments  on  this  side  of  the  water 
make  up  in  genuine  comfort  what  they  lack  in 
ancient  manorial  pifturesqueness  and  ghost- 
haunted  grace.  Each  one  of  us  who  is  in  earnest 
is  asking  how  he  is  to  make  the  most  of  what  he 
has  or  earns,  so  as  to  attain  that  charm  of  refined 
living  which  is  civilization's  best  flower — living 
which  if  merely  material  and  unanimated  by  in- 
telligence and  noble  aims  is  without  charm,  but 
which  is  made  vastly  more  difficult  of  realization 
in  case  we  are  without  means  or  refuse  to  spend 
them  adequately. 

[32] 


The    Dwellings 
I. 


R.  and  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar,  who, 

M^^  as  you  may  remember,  divide 
^  their  income  into  parts  with 
^^  mathematical  precision,  were  not 
^^p^^  as  well  off  in  this  world's  goods 
at  the  time  of  their  marriage  as  they  are  now. 
Neither  Mr.  Caesar's  father  nor  Mrs.  Caesar's 
grandmother  was  then  dead,  and  consequently 
the  newly  wedded  pair,  though  set  up  by  their 
respeftive  families  with  a  comfortable  income, 
felt  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  them  to  praftise 
strid  economy.  Then  it  was  that  Julius  con- 
ceived what  seemed  to  them  both  the  happy 
idea  of  buying  a  house  dirt  cheap  in  a  neigh- 
borhood which  was  not  yet  improved,  and  im- 
proving the  neighborhood,  instead  of  paying  an 
exorbitant  price  for  a  residence  in  a  street  which 
was  already  all  it  should  be. 

"Why,"  said  Julius,  "should  n't  we  buy  one  of 
those  new  houses  in  Sunset  Terrace  ?  They  look 

tery  attractive,  and  if  we  can  only  induce  two  or 
dree  congenial  couples  to  join  forces  with  us  we 
hall  have  the  nucleus  of  a  delightful  colony." 


The    Art    of  Living 

"Besides,  everything  will  be  nice  and  new/' 
said  Mrs.  Julius,  or  Dolly  Caesar,  as  her  friends 
know  her.  "  No  cockroaches,  no  mice,  no  moths, 
no  family  skeletons  to  torment  us.  Julius,  you  are 
a  genius.  We  can  just  as  well  set  the  fashion  as 
follow  meekly  in  fashion's  wake." 

So  said,  so  done.  Julius  Caesar  bent  his  intelled 
upon  the  matter  and  soon  found  three  congenial 
couples  who  were  willing  to  join  forces  with  him. 
Before  another  twelve  months  had  passed,  four 
baby-wagons — one  of  them  double-seated — 
were  to  be  seen  on  four  sunny  grass-plots  in 
front  of  four  attradive,  artistic-looking  villas  on 
Sunset  Terrace.  Where  lately  sterility,  mortar, 
and  weeds  had  held  carnival,  there  was  now  an 
air  of  tasteful  gentility.  Thanks  to  the  example 
of  Dolly  Caesar,  who  had  an  eye  and  an  instind 
for  such  matters,  the  four  brass  door-plates 
sh@ne  like  the  sun,  the  paint  was  spick  and 
span,  the  four  gravel  paths  were  in  apple-pie 
order,  the  four  grass-plots  were  emerald  from 
timely  use  of  a  revolving  lawn  sprinkler,  and 
the  four  nurse-maids,  who  watched  like  dragons 
over  the  four  baby-wagons,  were  neat-looking 
and  comely.  No  wonder  that  by  the  end  of  the 
second  year  there  was  not  a  vacant  house  in 

[34] 


The    Dwellin 


g 


the  street,  and  that  everybody  who  wished  to 
live  in  a  fashionable  locality  was  eager  for  a 
chance  to  enter  Sunset  Terrace.  No  wonder,  too, 
that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar  were  able,  by 
the  end  of  the  fourth  year,  to  emerge  from  Sun- 
set Terrace  with  a  profit  on  the  sale  of  their 
villa  which  made  it  rent  free  for  the  entire  pe- 
riod, and  left  them  with  a  neat  little  surplus  to 
boot,  and  to  settle  down  with  calm  minds  on 
really  fashionable  Belport  Avenue,  in  the  stately 
mansion  devised  to  them  by  Mrs.  Caesar's  grand- 
mother. 

Now,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  a  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar  can  sometimes  do  that 
which  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  J.  Spriggs  find 
difficulty  in  accomplishing.  Spriggs,  at  the  time 
of  his  marriage  to  Miss  Florence  Green,  the 
daughter  of  ex-Assistant  Postmaster-General 
Homer  W.  Green,  conceived  the  happy  idea  of 
setting  up  his  household  gods  in  Locust  Road, 
which  lies  about  as  far  from  Belport  Avenue  in 
one  diredion  as  Sunset  Terrace  in  the  other. 
Both  are  semi-suburban.  It  also  occurred  to  him 
at  the  outset  to  join  forces  with  three  or  four 
congenial  couples,  but  at  the  last  moment  the 
engagement  of  one  of  the  couples  in  question 

[35] 


The    Art    of  Living 

was  broken,  and  the  other  three  decided  to  live 
somewhere  else.  To  have  changed  his  mind  then 
would  have  involved  the  sacrifice  of  one  hun- 
dred dollars  paid  to  bind  the  bargain  to  the  land- 
owner. So  it  seemed  best  to  them  on  the  whole 
to  move  in,  as  they  had  to  live  somewhere. 

"It 's  just  a  little  bit  dreary,  is  n*t  it?''  said 
Florence  Spriggs,  pathetically,  as  she  looked  out 
of  her  bow  window  at  the  newly  finished  street 
which  was  not  finished,  and  at  the  grass-plot 
where  there  was  no  grass.  "But  I  sha'n't  be  a 
bit  lonely  with  you,  George." 

"I  wonder  if  the  color  of  this  house  has  been 
changed,"  said  Spriggs,  presently,  as  he  glanced 
up  at  the  facade  and  from  that  to  the  other  houses 
in  the  block,  each  of  which  was  vacant.  He  and 
Florence  had  gone  out  after  dinner  to  take  a 
stroll  and  survey  the  neighborhood  which  they 
hoped  to  improve. 

"Of  course  it  hasn't!  How  could  it  be?" 
said  Florence. 

"Somehow  it  looks  a  more  staring  shade  of 
yellow  than  it  did  the  first  time  we  saw  it.  And 
I  don't  fancy  altogether  the  filigree  work  on  the 
door,  or  that  Egyptian  renaissance  scroll  set  into 
the  eastern  wall,  do  you,  dearest?  However, 


The    Dwelling 


we  're  in  now  and  can't  get  out,  for  the  title  has 
passed.  I  wonder  who  will  buy  the  other 
houses  ?" 

They  were  soon  to  know.  They  were  alone 
all  winter,  but  in  the  early  spring  a  family  moved 
in  on  either  side  of  them.  The  houses  in  Locust 
Road,  like  those  in  Sunset  Terrace,  were  of  the 
villa  order,  with  grass-plots,  which  were  almost 
lawns,  appurtenant.  Though  less  pleasing  than 
those  which  had  taken  the  more  discerning  eye 
of  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar,  they  were  nevertheless 
comparatively  inoffensive  and  sufficiently  taste- 
ful. Neighbor  number  one  proved  to  be  of  an 
enterprising  and  imaginative  turn.  He  changed 
the  color  of  his  villa  from  staring  yellow  to  star- 
tlingcrushed  strawberry, supplemented  his  Egyp- 
tian renaissance  scroll  and  filigree  with  inlaid 
jewel  and  frost  work,  stationed  a  cast-iron  stag 
in  one  corner  of  the  grass-plot  and  a  cast-iron 
Diana  with  a  bow  in  another,  and  then  rested  on 
his  laurels.  Neighbor  number  two  was  shiftless 
and  untidy.  His  grass-plot  did  not  thrive,  and 
the  autumn  leaves  choked  his  gravel  path.  His 
windows  were  never  washed,  his  blinds  hung 
askew,  and  his  one  maid-of-all-work  preferred 
the  lawn  to  the  laundry  as  a  drying-room.  His 

[37] 


The    Art    of  Living 

wife  sunned  herself  in  a  wrapper,  and  he  himself 
in  his  shirt  sleeves.  A  big  mongrel  dog  drooled 
perpetually  on  the  piazza  or  tracked  it  with  his 
muddy  feet,  and  even  the  baby-wagon  wore  the 
appearance  of  dilapidation  and  halted  because  of 
a  broken  spring. 

The  Spriggses  tried  to  be  lenient  and  even 
genial  with  both  these  neighbors,  but  somehow 
the  attempt  was  not  successful.  Neighbor  num- 
ber one  became  huffy  because  Spriggs  took  no 
notice  of  his  advice  that  he  embellish  his  grass- 
plot  with  a  stone  mastiff  or  an  umbrella  and 
cherub  fountain,  and  neighbor  number  two  took 
offence  because  Spriggs  complained  that  the  ven- 
tilator on  his  chimney  kept  Mrs.  Spriggs  awake 
by  squeaking.  Mrs.  Spriggs  did  her  best  to  set 
them  both  a  good  example  by  having  everything 
as  tasteful  on  the  one  hand  and  as  tidy  on  the 
other  as  it  should  be.  In  the  hope  of  improving 
them  she  even  dropped  suggestive  hints  as  to 
how  people  ought  to  live,  but  the  hints  were  not 
taken.  What  was  worse  none  of  the  other  houses 
were  taken.  As  Spriggs  pathetically  expressed  it, 
the  iron  stag  on  the  one  side  and  the  weekly 
wash  on  the  other  kept  purchasers  at  bay.  He 
tried  to  buoy  himself  up  by  believing  that  a  glut 

[38] 


s 


The    Dwelling 


in  the  real  estate  market  was  the  cause  why  the 
remaining  villas  in  Locust  Road  hung  fire,  but 
this  consolation  was  taken  away  from  him  the 
following  spring  when  an  adive  buying  move- 
ment all  along  the  line  still  left  them  without 
other  neighbors.  The  unoccupied  villas  had  be- 
gun to  wear  an  air  of  dilapidation,  in  spite  of 
their  Egyptian  renaissance  scrolls  and  the  pre- 
sence of  a  cast-iron  Diana. 

To  crown  the  situation  the  baby  of  neighbor 
number  two  caught  diphtheria  from  being  left  in 
its  halting  wagon  by  the  maid-of-all-work  too 
near  the  cesspool  on  the  lawn,  and  was  kissed 
by  the  Spriggs  baby  before  the  fad  was  disco- 
vered. If  there  is  pne  thing  more  irritating  to  the 
maternal  mind  than  another,  it  is  to  have  dear 
baby  catch  something  from  the  child  of  people 
whom  you  reprobate.  One  feels  that  the  original 
horrors  of  the  disease  are  sure  to  be  enhanced 
through  such  a  medium.  When  the  only  child 
of  the  Julius  Caesars  died  of  the  same  disease, 
contracted  from  a  germ  inhaled  on  Belport  Ave- 
nue, the  parents  felt  that  only  destiny  was  to 
blame.  On  the  other  hand,  though  the  Spriggs 
baby  recovered,  Mrs.  Spriggs  neverquite  forgave 
herself  for  what  had  happened.  Before  the  next 

[39] 


T^he    Art    of  Living 

autumn  Spriggs  parted  with  his  estate  on  Lo- 
cust Road  for  so  much  less  than  he  had  paid  for 
it  that  he  felt  obliged  to  accept  the  hospitality 
of  his  wife's  father,  ex-Assistant  Postmaster- 
General  Green,  during  the  succeeding  winter. 

The  moral  of  this  double-jointed  tale  is  two- 
fold; firstly  that  the  young  householder  cannot 
always  count  upon  improving  the  neighborhood 
in  which  he  sets  up  his  goods  and  chattels  after 
marriage,  and  secondly,  that,  in  case  the  neigh- 
borhood fails  to  improve,  a  tenancy  for  a  year 
or  two  is  a  less  serious  burden  than  absolute 
ownership.  It  is  extremely  pleasant,  to  be  sure, 
to  be  able  to  declare  that  one  has  paid  for  one's 
house,  and  I  am  aware  that  the  consciousness 
of  unencumbered  ownership  in  the  roof  over 
one's  head  affords  one  of  the  most  affeding  and 
effedlive  opportunities  for  oratory  which  the  free- 
born  citizen  can  desire.  The  hand  of  many  a  hus- 
band and  father  has  been  stayed  from  the  wine- 
cup  or  the  gaming-table  by  the  pathetic  thought 
that  he  owned  his  house.  As  a  rule,  too,  it  is 
cheaper  to  pay  the  interest  on  a  mortgage  than 
to  pay  rent,  and  if  one  is  perfedly  sure  of  being 
able  to  improve  the  neighborhood,  or  at  least  save 
it  from  degeneration,  it  certainly  seems  desirable 

[40] 


The    Dwelling 


to  be  the  landlord  of  one's  house,  even  though  it 
be  mortgaged  so  cleverly  that  the  equity  of  re- 
demption is  merely  a  name.  But  in  this  age  of 
semi-suburban  development,  when  Roads  and 
Terraces  and  Parks  and  Gates  and  other  Anglo- 
European  substitutes  for  streets  serve  as  "springes 
to  catch  woodcocks,"  a  young  couple  on  real 
estate  ownership  bent  should  have  the  discerning 
eye  of  a  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar  in  order  not  to  fall 
a  prey  to  the  specious  land  and  lot  speculator. 
If  you  happen  to  hit  on  a  Sunset  Terrace,  ev- 
erything is  rose  color,  but  to  find  one's  self  an 
owner  in  fee  on  a  Locust  Road,  next  door  to 
crushed  strawberry  and  a  cast-iron  stag,  will  pal- 
sy the  hopes  of  the  hopeful. 

What  attraftive,  roomy,  tasteful  affairs  many 
of  these  semi-suburban  villas,  which  are  built 
nowadays  on  the  new  Roads,  Terraces,  Parks, 
Gates,  and  even  Streets,  are  to  be  sure.  There 
are  plenty  of  homely  ones  too,  but  it  is  a  simple 
matter  to  avoid  the  Egyptian  renaissance  scroll, 
and  the  inlaid  jewel  work  and  stained-glass  bull's 
eyes  if  one  only  will.  They  seem  to  be  affording 
to  many  a  happy  solution  of  the  ever  new  and 
ever  old  problem,  which  presents  itself  to  every 
man  who  is  about  to  take  a  wife,  whether  it  is 

[41  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

preferable  to  live  in  the  city  or  the  country. 
These  new  suburbs,  or  rather  outlying  wards  of 
our  large  cities,  which  have  been  carved  out  of 
what,  not  many  years  ago,  was  real  country  where 
cows  browsed  and  woods  flourished,  must  be  very 
alluring  to  people  who  would  fain  live  out  of 
town  and  still  be  in  it.  When,  by  stepping  on 
an  eleftric  car  or  taking  the  train,  you  can,  within 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  be  on  your  own  piazza  in- 
haling fresh  air  and  privileged  to  feast  your  eyes 
on  a  half  acre  or  less  of  greensward  belonging  to 
yourself,  there  would  seem  to  be  strong  induce- 
ments for  refusing  to  settle  down  in  a  stuffy, 
smoky,  dusty,  wire-pestered  city  street,  however 
fashionable.  Rapid  transit  has  made  or  is  mak- 
ing the  environs  of  our  cities  so  accessible  that 
the  time-honored  problem  presents  itself  under 
different  conditions  than  formerly.  There  is  no 
such  thing  now  as  the  real  country  for  anybody 
who  is  not  prepared  to  spend  an  hour  in  the  train. 
Even  then  one  is  liable  to  encounter  asphalt  walks 
and  a  Soldier's  monument  in  the  course  of  a  syl- 
van stroll.  But  the  intervening  territory  is  ample 
and  alluring. 

For  one-half  the  rent  demanded  for  a  town 
house  of  meagre  dimensions  in  the  middle  of  a 

[4^] 


The    Dwelling 


block,  with  no  outlook  whatever,  new,  spacious, 
airy,  ornamental  homes  with  a  plot  of  land  and  a 
pleasing  view  attached,  are  to  be  had  for  the  seek- 
ing within  easy  living  distance  from  nearly  every 
large  city.  When  I  begin  to  rhapsodize,  as  I 
sometimes  do,  I  am  apt  to  ask  myself  why  it  is 
that  anybody  continues  to  live  in  town.  It  was 
only  the  other  day  that  I  happened,  while  driving 
with  my  wife  in  the  suburbs,  to  call  her  attention, 
enthusiastically,  to  the  new  house  which  Perkins 
has  secured  for  himself.  You  may  remember  that 
Perkins  is  the  thin,  nervous  lawyer  with  four 
daughters,  who  is  solicitous  as  to  what  will  be- 
come of  them  when  he  is  dead.  We  drove  by 
just  as  he  came  up  the  avenue  from  the  station, 
which  is  only  a  three  minutes'  walk  from  the 
house.  He  looked  tired — he  always  does — but 
there  was  already  a  fresh  jauntiness  in  his  tread 
as  though  he  sniffed  ozone.  He  looked  up  at  the 
new  house  complacently,  as  well  he  might,  for  it 
is  large  enough  even  for  four  daughters,  and  has 
all  the  engaging  impressiveness  of  a  not  too 
quaintly  proportioned  and  not  too  abnormally 
stained  modern  villa,  a  highly  evolved  composite 
of  an  old  colonial  mansion,  a  Queen  Anne  cot- 
tage, and  a  French  chateau.  Before  he  reached 

[43] 


The    Art    of  Living 

the  front  door,  two  of  his  daughters  ran  out  to 
embrace  him  and  relieve  him  of  his  bag  and  bun- 
dles, and  a  half-hour  later,  as  we  drove  back,  he 
was  playing  lawn  tennis  with  three  of  his  girls, 
in  a  white  blazer  with  pink  stripes  and  knicker- 
bockers, which  gave  his  thin  and  eminently  re- 
spectable figure  a  rather  rakish  air. 

"  Barbara,"  I  said  to  my  wife,"  why  is  n't  Per- 
kins doing  the  sensible  thing  ?  That 's  a  charming 
house,  double  the  size  he  could  get  for  the  same 
money  in  town — and  the  rent  is  eight  hundred 
or  a  thousand  dollars  instead  of  fifteen  hundred 
or  two  thousand.  He  needs  fewer  servants  out 
here,  for  the  parlor-maid  is  n't  kept  on  tenter- 
hooks to  answer  the  door-bell,  and  there  is  fresh 
air  to  come  back  to  at  night,  and  the  means  for 
outdoor  exercise  on  his  own  or  his  neighbor's 
lawn,  which  for  a  nervous,  thin-chested,  seden- 
tary man  like  Perkins  is  better  than  cod-liver 
oil.  Think  what  robust  specimens  those  daugh- 
ters should  be  with  such  opportunities  for  tennis, 
golf,  skating,  and  bicycling. 

On  Sundays  and  holidays,  if  the  spirit  moves 
him  and  his  wife  and  the  girls  to  start  off  on  an 
exploring  expedition,  they  are  not  obliged  to  take 
a  train  or  pound  over  dusty  pavements  before 

[44] 


The    Dwelling 


they  begin  ;  the  wild  flowers  and  autumn  foliage 
and  chestnut-burs  are  all  to  be  had  in  the  woods 
and  glens  within  a  mile  or  two  of  their  own  home. 
Or  if  he  needs  to  be  undisturbed,  no  noise,  no 
interruption,  but  nine  hours'  sleep  and  an  atmo- 
sphere suited  to  rest  and  contemplation  on  his 
piazza  or  by  his  cheerful,  tasteful  fireside.  Why 
is  n't  this  preferable  to  the  artificial,  restless  life 
of  the  city  ?  " 

"  And  yet,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  have  heard  you 
state  that  only  a  rich  man  can  afford  to  live  in 
the  country." 

Women  certainly  delight  to  store  up  remarks 
made  in  quite  another  connexion,  and  use  them 
as  random  arguments  against  us. 

"  My  dear  Barbara,"  said  I,  "  this  is  not  the 
country.  Of  course  in  the  real  country,  one  needs 
so  many  things  to  be  comfortable  nowadays — a 
large  house,  stables,  horses,  and  what  not — it  has 
always  seemed  to  me  that  a  poor  man  with  social 
or  cultivated  instinfts  had  better  stay  in  town. 
But  have  not  Perkins  and  these  other  semi-sub- 
urbanites hit  the  happy  medium  ?  They  have 
railroads  or  eleftric  cars  at  their  doors,  and  yet 
they  can  get  real  barn-yard  smells." 

"  I  doubt  if  they  can,"  said  Barbara.  "  That  is, 

[45] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

unless  they  start  a  barn-yard  for  the  purpose,  and 
that  would  bring  the  health  authorities  down  up- 
on them  at  once.  If  this  were  the  country,  I  could 
entirely  thrill  at  the  description  you  have  just 
given  of  your  friend  Mr.  Perkins.  The  real  coun- 
try is  divine  ;  but  this  is  oleomargarine  country. 
On  the  other  hand,  however,  I  quite  agree  with 
you  that  if  Mr.  Perkins  is  delicate,  this  is  a  far 
healthier  place  for  him  than  the  city,  in  spite  of 
the  journey  in  the  train  twice  a  day.  The  houses 
— his  house  in  particular — are  lovely,  and  I  dare 
say  we  all  ought  to  do  the  same.  He  can  certainly 
come  in  contad  with  nature — such  nature  as 
there  is  left  within  walking  distance — easier  than 
city  people.  But  to  console  me  for  not  having  one 
of  these  new,  roomy  villas,  and  to  prevent  you 
from  doing  anything  rash,  I  may  as  well  state  a 
few  objedions  to  your  paradise.  As  to  expense, 
of  course  there  is  a  saving  in  rent,  and  it  is  true 
that  the  parlor-maid  does  not  have  to  answer  the 
door-bell  so  often,  and  accordingly  can  do  other 
things  instead.  Consequently,  too,  Mrs.  Perkins 
and  the  four  girls  may  get  into  the  habit  of  going 
about  untidy  and  in  their  old  clothes.  A  dowdy 
girl  with  rosy  cheeks  and  a  fine  constitution  is  a 
pitiable  objed:  in  this  age  of  feminine  progress. 

[46] 


The    Dwelling 


Mr.  Perkins  will  have  to  look  out  for  this,  and 
he  may  require  cod-liver  oil  after  all. 

"  Then  there  is  the  question  of  schools.  In 
many  of  these  semi-suburban  paradises  there  are 
no  desirable  schools,  especially  for  girls,  which 
necessitates  perpetual  coming  and  going  on  trains 
and  cars,  and  will  make  education  a  wearisome 
thing,  especially  for  Mrs.  Perkins.  She  will  find, 
too,  that  her  servants  are  not  so  partial  to  wild 
flowers  and  chestnut-burs  and  fresh  air  as  her 
husband  and  daughters.  Only  the  inexperienced 
will  apply,  and  they  will  come  to  her  reluctantly, 
and  as  soon  as  she  has  accustomed  them  to  her 
ways  and  made  them  skilful,  they  will  tell  her 
they  are  not  happy,  and  need  the  society  of  their 
friends  in  town. 

"  Those  are  a  few  of  the  drawbacks  to  the 
semi-suburban  villa  ;  but  the  crucial  and  most  se- 
rious objeftion  is,  that  unless  one  is  very  watch- 
ful, and  often  in  spite  of  watchfulness,  the  semi- 
suburbanite  shuts  himself  off  from  the  best  social 
interests  and  advantages.  He  begins  by  imagin- 
ing that  there  will  be  no  difference ;  that  he  will 
see  just  as  much  of  his  friends  and  go  just  as  fre- 
quently to  balls  and  dinner-parties,  the  concert 
and  the  theatre,  the  educational  or  philanthropic 
[47] 


The    Art    of  Living 

meeting.  But  just  that  requisite  and  impending 
twenty  minutes  in  the  train  or  eleftric  car  at  the 
fag  end  of  the  day  is  liable  to  make  a  hermit  of 
him  to  all  intents^and  purposes  by  the  end  of  the 
second  year.  Of  course,  if  one  is  rich  and  has  one's 
own  carriage,  the  process  of  growing  rusty  is  more 
gradual,  though  none  the  less  sure.  On  that  very 
account  most  people  with  a  large  income  come  to 
town  for  a  few  months  in  winter  at  any  rate.  There 
are  so  many  things  in  life  to  do,  that  even  friends 
with  the  best  and  most  loving  intentions  call  once 
on  those  who  retire  to  suburban  villas  and  let 
that  do  for  all  time.  To  be  sure,  some  people 
revel  in  being  hermits  and  think  social  enter- 
tainments and  excitements  a  mere  waste  of  time 
and  energy.  I  am  merely  suggesting  that  for 
those  who  wish  to  keep  in  close  touch  with  the 
adtive  human  interests  of  the  day,  the  semi-sub- 
urban villa  is  somewhat  of  a  snare.  The  Perkinses 
will  have  to  exercise  eternal  vigilance,  or  they  will 
find  themselves  seven  evenings  out  of  seven  nod- 
ding by  their  fire-side  after  an  ample  meal,  with 
all  their  social  instinds  relaxed." 

Undeniably  Barbara  offered  the  best  solution 
of  this  question  in  her  remark,  that  those  who 
can  afford  it  spend  the  spring  and  autumn  in  the 
[48] 


The    Dwelling 


country  and  come  to  town  for  the  winter  months. 
Certainly,  if  I  were  one  of  the  persons  who  are 
said  to  have  too  much  for  their  own  good,  I 
should  do  something  of  the  kind.  I  might  not 
buy  a  suburban  villa;  indeed,  I  would  rather  go 
to  the  real  country,  where  there  are  lowing  kine, 
and  rich  cream  and  genuine  barnyard  smells,  in- 
stead of  eledric  cars  and  soldiers'  monuments. 
There  would  I  remain  until  it  was  time  to  kill 
the  Thanksgiving  turkey,  and  then  I  would  hie 
me  to  town  in  order  to  refresh  my  mental  fac- 
ulties with  city  sights  and  sounds  during  the 
winter-spring  solstice,  when  the  lowing  kine  are 
all  in  the  barn,  and  even  one  who  owns  a  sub- 
urban villa  has  to  fight  his  way  from  his  front 
door  through  snow-drifts,  and  listen  to  the  whis- 
tling wind  instead  of  the  robin  red-breast  or 
tinkling  brook. 

Patterson,  the  banker,  is  surely  to  be  envied 
in  his  enjoyment  of  two  establishments,  notwith- 
standing that  the  double  ownership  suggests 
again  the  effete  civilizations  of  Europe,  and  was 
once  considered  undemocratic.  Patterson,  though 
his  son  has  been  through  the  Keeley  cure,  and 
his  daughter  lives  apart  from  her  husband,  has 
a  charming  place  thirty-five  miles  from  town, 

[49] 


I: 


The    Art    of  Living 

where  he  has  many  acres  and  many  horses,  cows, 
and  sheep,  an  expanse  of  woods,  a  running  stream, 
delicious  vegetables  and  fruit;  golf  links,  and  a 
fine  country  house  with  all  the  modern  improve- 
ments, including  a  cosy,  spacious  library.  Then 
he  has  another  house — almost  a  palace — in 
town  which  he  opens  in  the  late  autumn  and  oc- 
cupies until  the  middle  of  May,  for  Patterson,  in 
spite  of  some  foibles,  is  no  tax  dodger. 

Yes,  to  have  two  houses  and  live  half  of  the 
year  in  town  and  the  other  half  in  the  country, 
with  six  to  eight  weeks  at  the  seaside  or  moun- 
tains, so  as  to  give  the  children  salt  air  and  bath- 
ing, or  a  thorough  change,  is  what  most  of  us 
would  choose  in  case  we  were  blessed  with  too 
much  for  our  own  good.  But,  unfortunately  or 
fortunately,  most  of  us  with  even  comfortable 
incomes  cannot  have  two  houses,  and  conse- 
quently must  choose  between  town  and  country 
or  semi-country,  especially  as  the  six  or  eight 
weeks  at  the  sea-side  or  mountains  is  apt  to  seem 
imperative  when  midsummer  comes.  According, 
therefore,  as  we  select:  to  live  in  one  or  the  other, 
it  behooves  us  to  praftise  eternal  vigilance,  so 
that  we  may  not  lose  our  love  of  nature  and 
wreck  our  nerves  in  the  worldly  bustle  of  city 

[50] 


The    Dwelling 


life,  or  become  Inert,  rusty,  and  narrow  among 
the  lowing  kine  or  in  semi-suburban  seclusion. 
In  order  to  live  wisely,  we  who  dwell  in  the 
cities  should  in  our  spare  hours  seek  fresh  air, 
sunlight,  and  intercourse  with  nature,  and  we 
whose  homes  are  out  of  town  should  in  our  turn 
rehabilitate  our  social  instinfts  and  rub  up  our 
manners. 

Regarding  the  real  country,  there  is  one  other 
consideration  of  which  I  am  constantly  reminded 
by  a  little  water-color  hanging  in  my  library, 
painted  by  me  a  few  years  ago  while  I  was  stay- 
ing with  my  friend  Henley.  It  represents  a 
modest  but  pretty  house  and  a  charming  rustic 
landscape.  I  call  it  Henley's  Folly.  Henley,  who 
possessed  ardent  social  instinfts,had  always  lived 
in  town;  but  he  suddenly  took  it  into  his  head 
to  move  thirty  miles  into  the  country.  He  told 
me  that  he  did  so  primarily  for  the  benefit  of 
his  wife  and  children,  but  added  that  it  would 
be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  him,  that  it 
would  domesticate  him  still  more  completely, 
and  give  him  time  to  read  and  cultivate  himself. 
When  I  went  to  stay  with  him  six  months  later, 
he  was  jubilant  regarding  the  delights  of  the 
country,  and  declared  that  he  had  become  a 

[51] 


The    Art    of  Living 

genuine  farmer.  He  pished  at  the  suggestion 
that  the  daily  journey  to  and  from  town  was  ex- 
hausting, and  informed  me  that  his  one  idea  was 
to  get  away  from  the  bricks  and  mortar  as  early 
in  the  afternoon  as  possible.  Just  two  years  later 
I  heard  with  surprise,  one  day,  that  the  Henleys 
had  sold  their  farm  and  were  coming  back  to 
town.  The  reason — confided  to  me  by  one  of  the 
family — was  that  his  wife  was  so  much  alone  that 
she  could  not  endure  the  solitude  any  longer. 
"You  see,'*  said  my  informant,  "the  nearest 
house  of  their  friends  was  four  miles  off,  and  as 
Henley  stayed  in  townuntil  the  last  gun  fired,  the 
days  he  returned  home  at  all,  and  as  he  had  or  in- 
vented a  reason  for  staying  in  town  all  night  at 
least  once  a  week,  poor  Mrs.  Henley  realized 
that  the  lot  of  a  farmer's  wife  was  not  all  roses 
and  sunshine."  From  this  I  opine  that  if  one 
with  ardent  social  instinds  would  live  wisely  he 
should  not  become  a  gentleman  farmer  merely 
for  the  sake  of  his  wife  and  children. 


[5^] 


The    Dwelling, 
II. 


PiW#J 


jjH ETHER  we  live  in  the  city  or  the 
country,  it  must  be  apparent  to  all  of 
us  that  a  great  wave  of  architedural 
^IPI^IP^IP  adlivity  in  resped  to  dwelling-houses 
has  been  spreading  over  our  land  during  the  past 
twenty  years.  The  American  archited:  has  been 
getting  in  his  work  and  showing  what  he  could 
do,  with  the  result  that  the  long,  monotonous  row 
of  brick  or  freestone  custom-made  city  houses, 
and  the  stereotyped  white  country  farm-house 
with  green  blinds  and  an  ell  or  lean-to  attached, 
have  given  place  to  a  vivid  and  heterogeneous 
display  of  individual  effort.  Much  of  this  is  fine 
and  some  deadly,  for  the  display  includes  not 
merely  the  generally  tasteful  and  artistic  con- 
ceptions of  our  trained  native  architedls,  who 
have  studied  in  Paris,  but  the  raw  notions  of 
all  the  builders  of  custom-made  houses  who, 
recognizing  the  public  desire  for  striking  and 
original  effeds,  are  bent  upon  surpassing  one 
another. 

Therefore,  while  we  have  many  examples,  both 
urban  and  suburban,  of  beautiful  and  impressive 

[53] 


The    Art    of  Living 

house  architefture,  the  new  sedlions  of  our  cities 
and  suburbs  fairly  bristle  with  a  multiplicity  of 
individual  experiments  in  which  the  salient  fea- 
tures of  every  known  type  of  architedlure  are 
blended  fearlessly  together.  The  native  archi- 
te(5l  who  has  neither  been  to  Paris  nor  been  able 
to  devote  much  time  to  study  has  not  been  lim- 
ited in  the  expression  of  his  genius  by  artistic 
codes  or  conventions.  Consequently  he  has  felt 
no  hesitation  in  using  extinguisher  towers,  medi- 
aeval walls,  battlement  effefts.  Queen  Anne  cot- 
tage lines,  Old  Colonial  proportions,  and  Eastern 
imagery  in  the  same  design,  and  any  one  of  them 
at  any  critical  junfture  when  his  work  has  seemed 
to  him  not  sufficiently  striking  for  his  own  or  the 
owner's  taste. 

Satisfadory  as  all  this  is  as  evidence  of  a  pro- 
gressive spirit,  and  admitting  that  many  of  even 
these  lawless  manifestations  of  talent  are  not  with- 
out merit,  it  is  nevertheless  aggressively  true  that 
the  smug  complacency  of  the  proprietor  of  the 
suburban  villa,  which  is  hedged  about  by  a  stone 
rampart  of  variegated  rough  stone  on  an  ordi- 
nary building  lot,  has  no  justification  whatever. 
Nor  has  the  master  of  the  castellated,  gloomy, 
half-Moorish,  half-mediaeval  mansion,  which  dis- 

[54] 


The    Dwelling 


figures  the  fashionable  quarter  of  many  of  our 
cities,  occasion  to  congratulate  himself  on  having 
paid  for  a  thing  of  beauty.  The  number  of  our 
well-trained  architeds,  though  constantly  increas- 
ing, is  still  small,  especially  as  compared  with  the 
number  of  people  of  means  who  are  eager  to 
occupy  a  thing  of  beauty ;  then,  too,  even  the 
trained  archited  is  apt  to  try  experiments  for  the 
sake  of  testing  his  genius,  on  a  dog,  so  to  speak — 
some  confiding  plutocrat  with  a  love  of  splendor 
who  has  left  everything  to  him. 

The  result  is  that  grotesque  and  eye-distress- 
ing monsters  of  masonry  stand  side  by  side  on 
many  of  our  chief  avenues  with  the  most  grace- 
ful and  finished  specimens  of  native  archite6hiral 
inspiration.  As  there  is  no  law  which  prevents 
one  from  building  or  buying  an  ugly  house,  and 
as  the  archited:,  whose  experiment  on  a  dog  tor- 
tures the  public  eye,  suffers  no  penalty  for  his 
crime,  our  national  house  architecture  may  be 
said  to  be  working  out  its  own  salvation  at  the 
public  expense.  It  is  the  duty  of  a  patriotic  citi- 
zen to  believe  that  in  this,  as  in  other  matters  of 
national  welfare,  the  beautiful  gradually  will  pre- 
vail ;  and  assuredly  the  many  very  attradive  pri- 
vate residences  which  one  sees  both  in  the  city 

[55] 


T^he    Art    of  Living 

and  the  country  should  tend  to  make  us  hopeful. 
Why  is  It  that  the  rich  man  who  would  live 
wisely  feels  the  necessity  for  so  large  a  house  in 
the  city  ?  Almost  the  first  thing  that  one  who  has 
accumulated  or  inherited  great  possessions  does 
nowadays  is  to  leave  the  house  where  very  likely 
he  has  been  comfortable  and  move  into  a  mam- 
moth establishment  suggesting  rather  a  palace  or 
an  emporium  than  a  house.  Why  is  this  ?  Some 
one  answers  that  it  is  for  the  sake  of  abundant 
light  and  extra  space.  Surely  in  a  handsome  house 
of  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  front  there  should  be 
light  and  space  enough  for  the  average  family, 
however  fastidious  or  exading.  In  the  country, 
where  one  needs  many  spare  rooms  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  guests,  there  are  some  advan- 
tages in  the  possession  of  an  abnormally  large 
house.  But  how  is  the  comfort  of  the  city  man 
enhanced  by  one,  that  is,  if  the  attendant  dis- 
comforts are  weighed  in  the  same  scale?  It  has 
sometimes  seemed  to  me  that  the  wealthy  or  suc- 
cessful man  invests  in  a  prodigious  mansion  as 
a  sort  of  testimonial ;  as  though  he  felt  it  incum- 
bent on  him  to  ered:  a  conventional  monument 
to  his  own  grandeur  or  success,  in  order  to  letJ 
the  public  entertain  no  doubt  about  it.  But  sol 

[56] 


The    Dwelling 


many  otherwise  sensible  men  have  deliberately 
built  huge  city  houses  that  this  can  scarcely  be 
the  controlling  motive  in  all  cases.  Perhaps,  if 
asked,  they  would  throw  the  responsibility  on 
their  wives.  But  it  is  even  more  difficult  to  un- 
derstand why  a  sensible  woman  should  wish  one 
of  the  vast  houses  which  our  rising  architects  are 
naturally  eager  to  receive  orders  to  construd.  A 
handsome  house  where  she  can  entertain  attrac- 
tively, yes  :  an  exquisitely  furnished,  sunny,  cor- 
ner house  by  all  means  ;  a  house  where  each  child 
may  have  a  room  apart  and  where  there  are  plenty 
of  spare  rooms,  if  you  like  ;  but  why  a  mammoth 
cave  ?  She  is  the  person  who  will  suffi^r  the  dis- 
comforts to  be  weighed  in  the  same  scale,  for  the 
care  will  fall  on  her. 

We  have  in  this  country  neither  trained  ser- 
vants nor  the  housekeeper  system.  The  wife  and 
mother  who  is  the  mistress  of  a  huge  establish- 
ment wishes  it  to  be  no  less  a  home  than  her 
former  residence,  and  her  husband  would  be  the 
first  to  demur  were  she  to  cast  upon  others  the 
burdens  of  immediate  supervision.  A  moderate- 
sized  modern  house  is  the  cause  of  care  enough, 
as  we  all  know,  and  wherefore  should  any  wo- 
man seek  to  multiply  her  domestic  worries  by 

[57] 


The    Art    of  Living 

duplicating  or  trebling  the  number  of  her  ser- 
vants? To  become  the  manager  of  a  hotel  or  to 
cater  for  an  ocean  steamship  is  perhaps  a  tempt- 
ing ambition  for  one  in  search  of  fortune,  but 
why  should  a  woman,  who  can  choose  what  she 
will  have,  ele6l  to  be  the  slave  of  a  modern  pal- 
ace with  extinguisher  towers  ?  Merely  to  be  able 
to  invite  all  her  social  acquaintance  to  her  house 
once  a  year  without  crowding  them  ?  It  would 
be  simpler  to  hire  one  of  the  many  halls  now 
adapted  for  the  purpose. 

The  difficulty  of  obtaining  efficient  servants, 
and  the  worries  consequent  upon  their  ineffi- 
ciency, is  probably  the  chief  cause  of  the  rapid 
growth  of  the  apartment-house  among  us.  The 
contemporary  archite6l  has  selefted  this  class  of 
building  for  some  of  his  deadliest  conceits.  Great 
piles  of  fantastically  disposed  stone  and  iron 
tower  up  stories  upon  stories  high,  and  frown 
upon  us  at  the  street-corners  like  so  many  Brob- 
dingnagians.  Most  of  them  are  very  ugly;  nev- 
ertheless they  contain  the  homes  of  many  citi- 
zens, and  the  continuous  appearance  of  new  and 
larger  specimens  attests  their  increasing  popu- 
larity. Twenty  years  ago  there  was  scarcely  an 
apartment-house  to  be  seen  in  our  cities.  There 

[58] 


I 


The    Dwelling 


was  a  certain  number  of  hotels  where  families 
could  and  did  live  all  the  year  round,  but  the 
ten-story  monster,  with  a  janitor,  an  elevator, 
steam  heat,  eledric  light,  and  all  the  alleged  com- 
forts of  home,  was  praftically  unknown.  We 
have  always  professed  to  be  such  a  home-loving 
people,  and  the  so-called  domestic  hearth  has 
always  been  such  a  touchstone  of  sentiment 
among  us  that  the  exchange  of  the  family  roof 
for  the  community  of  a  flat  by  so  many  well-to- 
do  persons  certainly  seems  to  suggest  either  that 
living  cheek  by  jowl  with  a  number  of  other 
households  is  not  so  distasteful  as  it  seems  to 
the  uninitiated,  or  else  that  modern  housekeep- 
ing is  so  irksome  that  women  are  tempted  to 
swallow  sentiment  and  escape  from  their  tram- 
mels to  the  comparatively  easy  conditions  of  an 
apartment.  It  does  seem  as  though  one's  iden- 
tity would  be  sacrificed  or  dimmed  by  becoming 
a  tenant  in  common,  and  as  though  the  family 
circle  could  never  be  quite  the  same  thing  to 
one  who  was  conscious  that  his  was  only  a  part 
of  one  tremendous  whole.  And  yet,  more  and 
more  people  seem  to  be  anxious  to  share  a  jani- 
tor and  front  door,  and,  though  the  more  fas- 
tidious insist  on  their  own  cuisine,  there  are  not 

[59] 


The    Art    of  Living 

a  few  content  to  entrust  even  their  gastronomic 
welfare  to  a  kitchen  in  common. 

It  must  be  admitted,  even  by  those  of  us  who 
rejoice  in  our  homes,  that  there  is  much  to  be  said 
in  favor  of  the  apartment-house  as  a  solver  of 
pradical  difficulties,  and  that  our  imaginations 
are  largely  responsible  for  our  antipathy.  When 
once  inside  a  private  apartment  of  the  most  de- 
sirable and  highly  evolved  kind  one  cannot  but 
admit  that  there  is  no  real  lack  of  privacy,  and 
that  the  assertion  that  the  owner  has  no  domes- 
tic hearth  is  in  the  main  incorreft.  To  be  sure 
the  domain  belonging  to  each  suite  is  compara- 
tively circumscribed;  there  is  no  opportunity  for 
roaming  from  garret  to  cellar;  no  private  laun- 
dry; no  private  backyard;  and  no  private  front- 
door steps ;  but  to  all  pra6lical  intents  one  is  no 
less  free  from  intrusion  or  inspedlion  than  in  a 
private  house,  and  it  may  also  be  said  that  re- 
porters and  other  persevering  visitors  are  kept 
at  a  more  respeftful  distance  by  virtue  of  the 
janitor  in  common  on  the  ground  floor.  The 
sentiment  in  favor  of  limited  individual  posses- 
sion is  difficult  to  eradicate  from  sensitive  souls, 
and  rightly,  perhaps,  many  of  us  refuse  to  be 
convinced;  but  it  remains  true  that  the  woman 

[60] 


The    Dwelling 


who  has  become  the  mistress  of  a  commodious 
and  well-managed  apartment  must  have  many 
agreeable  quarters  of  an  hour  in  congratulating 
herself  that  perplexities  concerning  chores,  heat- 
ing, lighting,  flights  of  stairs,  leaks,  and  a  host 
of  minor  domestic  matters  no  longer  threaten 
her  peace  of  mind,  and — greatest  boon  of  all 
— that  she  now  can  manage  with  two  or  three 
servants  instead  of  five  or  six. 

In  this  newly  developed  fondness  for  flats  we 
are  again  guilty  of  imitating  one  of  the  efilste 
civilizations — France  this  time — where  it  has 
long  been  the  custom  for  families  to  content 
themselves  with  a  story  or  two  instead  of  a 
house;  though  we  can  claim  the  size  and  style 
of  architecture  of  the  modern  apartment  pile  as 
our  special  brand  upon  the  adopted  institution. 
The  introduction  of  the  custom  here  seems  to  me 
to  be  the  result  of  exhaustion  of  the  female  ner- 
vous system.  The  American  housewife,  weary  of 
the  struggle  to  obtain  efficient  servants,  having 
oscillated  from  all  Catholics  to  all  Protestants, 
from  all  Irish  to  all  Swedes  and  back  again,  hav- 
ing experimented  with  negroes  and  Chinamen, 
and  returned  to  pure  white,  having  tried  native 
help  and  been  insulted,  and  reverted  to  the  Cel- 
[6i] 


The    Art    of  Living 

tic  race,  she — the  long-sufFering — has  sought 
the  apartment-house  as  a  haven  of  rest.  She — 
the  long-suffering — has  assuredly  been  in  a  false 
position  since  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
declared  that  all  men  are  created  equal,  for  she 
has  been  forced  to  cherish  and  preserve  a  do- 
mestic institution  which  popular  sentiment  has 
refused  to  recognize  as  consistent  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  Democracy.  Our  National  creed,  whe- 
ther presented  in  the  primer  or  from  the  plat- 
form, has  ever  repudiated  the  idea  of  service 
when  accompanied  by  an  abatement  of  personal 
independence  or  confession  of  social  inferiority. 
Therefore  the  native  American  woman  has  per- 
sistently refused,  in  the  face  of  high  wages  and 
of  exquisite  moral  suasion,  to  enter  domestic 
service,  and  has  preferred  the  shop  or  fadory 
to  a  comfortable  home  where  she  would  have  to 
crook  the  knee  and  say  "Yes,  ma'am." 

At  the  same  time  the  native  American  woman, 
ever  since  "help  "  in  the  sense  of  social  acquain- 
tances willing  to  accommodate  for  hire  and  dine 
with  the  family  has  ceased  to  adorn  her  kitchen 
and  parlor,  has  been  steadily  forced  by  the  de- 
mands of  complex  modern  living  to  have  ser- 
vants of  her  own.  And  where  was  she  to  obtain 

[62] 


The    Dwelling 


them?  Excepting  the  negro,  only  among  the 
emigrants  of  foreign  countries,  at  first  among 
the  Irish,  and  presently  among  the  English  and 
Swedes,  all  of  whom,  unharassed  by  scruples  as 
to  a  consequent  loss  of  self-resped,  have  been 
prompt  to  recognize  that  this  field  of  employ- 
ment lay  open  to  them  and  was  undisputed. 
They  have  come,  and  they  still  come  in  herds 
to  our  shores,  raw  and  undisciplined,  the  over- 
flow from  their  own  countries;  and  as  fast  as 
they  arrive  they  are  feverishly  snapped  up  by 
the  American  housewife,  who  finds  the  need  of 
servants  more  and  more  imperative;  for  some 
one  must  do  the  elaborate  cooking,  some  one 
must  do  the  fine  washing,  some  one  must  polish 
the  silver,  rub  the  brasses,  care  for  the  lamps, 
and  dust  the  bric-a-brac  in  her  handsomest  es- 
tablishment. And  no  one  but  the  emigrant,  or  the 
son  and  daughter  of  the  emigrant,  is  willing  to. 
The  consequence  is  that,  though  the  native 
American  woman  is  as  resolute  as  ever  in  her 
own  refusal  to  be  a  cook  or  waitress  in  a  private 
family,  domestic  service  exists  as  an  institution 
no  less  completely  than  it  exists  in  Europe,  and 
practically  under  the  same  conditions,  save  that 
servants  here  receive  considerably  higher  wages 

[63] 


The    Art    of  Living 

than  abroad  because  the  demand  is  greater  than 
the  supply.  There  is  a  perpetual  wail  in  all  our 
cities  and  suburbs  that  the  supply  of  competent 
cooks,  and  skilled  laundresses  and  maids  is  so 
limited,  and  well-trained  servants  can  demand 
practically  their  own  prices.  The  conditions  of 
service,  however,  are  the  same.  That  is,  the  ser- 
vant in  the  household  of  the  free-born  is  still 
the  servant;  and  still  the  servant  in  •the  house- 
hold where  the  mistress,  who  has  prospered, 
would  originally  have  gone  into  service  had  she 
not  been  free-born.  For  there  is  no  one  more 
prompt  than  the  American  housewife  to  keep  a 
servant  when  she  can  afford  one,  and  the  more 
she  is  obliged  to  keep  the  proudenis  she,  though 
her  nervous  system  may  give  way  under  the 
strain.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  the  servants 
here  are  ill-treated.  On  the  contrary,  the  consid- 
eration shown  them  is  greater,  and  the  quarters 
provided  for  them  are  far  more  comfortable  on 
this  side  of  the  water  than  abroad.  Indeed,  ser- 
vants fare  nowhere  in  the  world  so  well  as  in  the 
establishments  of  the  well-to-do  people  of  our 
large  cities.  Their  bedrooms  are  suitable  and  often 
tasteful,  they  are  attended  by  the  family  physi- 
cian if  ill,  they  are  not  overworked,  and  very 

[64] 


The    Dwelling 


slight  checks  are  put  on  their  liberty.  But  they 
are  undeniably  servants.  The  free-born  Ameri- 
can mistress  does  not  regard  her  servants  as  so- 
cial equals.  She  expeds  them  to  stand  up  if  they 
are  sitting  down  when  she  enters  the  room.  She 
expefts  them  to  address  her  sons  and  daughters 
as  Mr.  Samuel  and  Miss  Fanny,  and  to  be  called 
in  turn  Maggie  or  Albertine  (or  Thompson  or 
Jones,  a  /'•  anglaise)  without  a  prefix.  She  does 
her  best,  in  short,  to  preserve  all  the  forms  and 
all  the  deference  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  haugh- 
tiness or  condescension  on  the  other  which  gov- 
ern the  relations  between  servant  and  mistress 
abroad. 

From  the  faft  that  we  need  so  many  more  ser- 
vants than  formerly,  to  care  properly  for  our  es- 
tablishments, the  servant  here  is  becoming  more 
and  more  of  a  machine.  That  is,  she  is  in  nearly 
the  same  category  with  the  eleftric  light  and  the 
furnace.  We  exped:  him  or  her  to  be  as  unobtru- 
sive as  possible,  to  perform  work  without  a  hitch, 
and  not  to  draw  upon  our  sympathies  unneces- 
sarily. The  mistress  of  one  or  two  girls  is  sure  to 
grow  friendly  and  concerned  as  to  their  outside 
welfare,  but  when  she  has  a  staff  of  five  or  six,  she 
is  thankful  if  she  is  not  obliged  to  know  anything 

[65] 


T^he    Art    of  Living 

about  them.  The  letter  which  appeared  in  a  New 
York  newspaper  some  years  ago,  from  an  Ameri- 
can girl,  in  which  she  declared  that  she  had  left 
service  because  her  master  and  his  sons  handed 
her  their  dripping  umbrellas  with  the  same  air  as 
they  would  have  handed  them  to  a  graven  image, 
was  thoroughly  in  point.  The  reason  the  native 
American  girl  will  not  become  a  servant,  in  spite 
of  the  arguments  of  the  rational  and  godly,  is  that 
service  is  the  sole  employment  in  this  country  in 
which  she  can  be  told  with  impunity  that  she  is 
the  social  inferior  of  any  one  else.  It  is  the  telling 
which  she  cannot  put  up  with.  It  is  one  thing  to 
be  conscious  that  the  person  you  are  constantly 
associated  with  is  better  educated,  better  man- 
nered, and  more  attradive  than  yourself,  and  it  is 
another  to  be  told  at  every  opportunity  that  this 
is  so.  In  the  shop,  in  the  faftory,  and  in  other 
walks  of  life,  whatever  her  real  superiors  may 
think  of  her,  they  must  treat  her  as  a  social  equal. 
Even  that  shrill-voiced,  banged,  bangled,  imper- 
tinent, slangy,  vulgar  produd  of  our  mammoth 
retail  dry-goods  system,  who  seems  to  believe 
herself  a  pattern  of  ladylike  behavior,  is  aware 
in  her  heart  that  she  does  not  know  how  to  be- 
have, and  yearns  to  resemble  the  well-bred  woman 
[66] 


The    Dwelling 


whom  she  daily  insults.  But  the  happiness  of  her 
life,  and  its  main-spring,  too,  lies  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  she  is  free  to  become  the  first  lady  in 
the  land,  and  that  she  herself  is  to  be  her  sole 
critic  and  detrador.  Why  is  she  not  right  in  re- 
fusing to  sacrifice  her  independence  ?  Why  should 
she  sell  her  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage  ? 

An  anomalous  condition  of  affairs  is  presented 
by  this  contrast  between  the  free-born  American 
woman  as  a  mistress  and  as  a  revolter  against 
domestic  service,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  one  of 
two  things  must  come  to  pass.  Necessarily  we 
shall  continue  to  have  cooks,  waiting-maids,  and 
laundresses  ;  at  least  our  food  must  be  prepared, 
our  drawing-rooms  dusted,  and  our  linen  ironed 
by  some  one.  But  either  we  shall  have  to  accept 
and  acknowledge  the  existence  among  us  of  a 
class,  recruited  from  foreign  emigrants  and  their 
descendants,  which  is  tarred  with  the  brush  of 
social  proscription  in  dired  violation  of  demo- 
cratic principles,  or  we  must  change  the  condi- 
tions of  domestic  service — change  them  so  that 
condescension  and  servility  vanish,  and  the  con- 
trad  of  service  becomes  like  the  other  contrads 
of  employment  between  man  and  man,  and  man 
and  woman. 

[67] 


The    Art    of  Living 

It  is  fruitless  now  to  inquire  what  the  free-born 
American  woman  would  have  done  without  the 
foreign  emigrant  to  cook  and  wash  for  her.  The 
question  is  whether,  now  that  she  has  her,  she  is 
going  to  keep  her,  and  keep  her  in  the  same  com- 
fortable and  well-paid  but  palpable  thraldom  as 
at  present.  If  so,  she  will  be  merely  imitating  the 
housewives  of  the  effete  civilizations  ;  she  will  be 
doing  simply  what  every  English,  French,  and 
German  woman  does  and  has  done  ever  since 
class  distindions  began.  But  in  that  case,  surely, 
we  shall  be  no  longer  able  to  proclaim  our  immu- 
nity from  caste,  and  our  Fourth  of  July  orators 
will  find  some  difficulty  in  showing  that  other 
nations  are  more  effete  in  this  resped:  than  our- 
selves. Twenty-five  years  more  of  development 
in  our  houses,  hotels,  and  restaurants,  if  con- 
duced on  present  lines,  will  produce  an  enor- 
mous ducking  and  scraping,  fee-seeking,  livery- 
wearing  servant  class,which  willgo  far  to  establish 
the  claim  put  forth  by  some  of  our  critics,  that 
equality  on  this  side  of  the  water  means  only  po- 
litical equality,  and  that  our  class  distinftions, 
though  not  so  obvious,  are  no  less  genuine  than 
elsewhere.  In  this  event  the  only  logical  note  of 
explanation  to  send  to  the  Powers  will  be  that 
[68] 


The    Dwelling 


social  equality  was  never  contemplated  by  the 
signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
that,  though  it  is  true  that  any  man  may  become 
President  of  the  United  States,  there  are  as  great 
inequalities  in  morals,  intelled:,  and  manners 
among  sons  of  liberty  as  among  the  subjeds  of 
the  Czar.  To  this  the  Powers  will  be  justified 
in  uttering  a  disappointed  and  slightly  ironical 
"  Oh  !  "  But  perhaps  the  foreign  emigrant  will 
have  something  to  say  on  the  subjed.  Perhaps 
the  horde  from  across  the  seas,  now  lured  by 
high  wages,  will  decrease  in  numbers,  or  it  may 
be  that  their  descendants  here  will  learn  through 
contad  with  the  free-born  revolter  against  do- 
mestic service  to  revolt  too. 

What  would  the  free-born  American  mistress 
do  then  ?  With  the  free-born  revolter  still  ob- 
durate, and  the  foreign  emigrant  ceasing  to  emi- 
grate or  recalcitrant,  she  would  be  in  an  unplea- 
sant fix  in  her  elaborate  establishment  condudled 
on  effete  principles.  In  this  praftical  dilemma, 
rather  than  in  an  awakened  moral  sense,  seems 
to  lie  our  best  hope  of  regeneration,  for  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  the  free-born  American  mistress 
is  doing  all  she  can  at  present  to  perpetuate  the 
foreign  idea  of  domestic  service,  and  it  seems 


The    Art    of  Living 

probable  that  so  long  as  the  foreign  emigrant  is 
willing  to  be  bribed  the  true  principles  of  demo- 
cracy will  be  violated.  Already  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  servants  is  inducing  home-loving  fami- 
lies to  seek  the  apartment-house.  A  more  dis- 
tind:  dearth  would  speedily  change  the  relations 
between  mistress  and  servant  into  that  of  con- 
trador  and  contradee,  as  in  other  employments 
in  this  country.  It  may  be  that  the  descendants 
of  the  emigrant  will  be  unable  to  resist  the  lure 
offered  them,  and  that  the  free-born  mistress 
will  triumph.  If  so,  we  shall  become  no  better 
and  possibly  no  worse  than  the  effete  civiliza- 
tions we  promised  to  make  blush  by  the  worth 
of  our  institutions. 


[70] 


House-  Furnishing    and    the 
Commissariat .     I. 


A 


f^FTER  a  man  and  his  wife  have 
^Ay  made  up  their  minds  whether  to 
^P  live  in  a  town  house  or  subur- 
^^  ban  villa,  they  are  obliged  to  con- 
^^^^^^^^  sider  next  what  they  will  have 
in  the  way  of  furniture,  and  presently  what  they 
will  have  for  dinner.  The  consciousness  that  a 
house  has  nothing  in  it  but  the  barest  fixtures 
— the  gasometer,  the  water-tanks,  and  the  elec- 
tric wires — and  that  it  is  for  you  and  your  wife 
to  decide  exadly  what  shall  go  into  it  in  the  way 
of  wall-papers,  carpets,  upholstery,  and  objefts 
of  virtu,  is  inspiring,  even  though  your  purse  be 
not  plethoric  and  your  knowledge  of  aesthetics 
limited.  The  thought  at  once  presents  itself  that 
here  is  the  chance  of  your  lifetime  to  demonstrate 
how  beautiful  and  cosy  a  home  may  be,  and  you 
set  eagerly  to  work  to  surpass  your  predecessors 
of  equal  means.  It  is  a  worthy  ambition  to  en- 
deavor to  make  the  matrimonial  nest  or  the 
home  of  maturer  years  attractive,  and  if  we  were 
to  peer  back  far  enough  into  the  past  of  even 
this  country,  to  the  time  when  our  great  great- 
[  71   ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

grandmothers  set  up  housekeeping  with  our 
great  great-grandfathers,  we  should  find  that  fur- 
nishing was  considered  a  seriously  delightful  mat- 
ter, though  not  perhaps  the  almost  sacred  trust 
we  regard  it  to-day.  I  mean  our  great  great- 
grandparents  who  used  to  live  in  those  charming 
old  colonial  houses,  and  who  owned  the  mahog- 
any desks  with  brass  handles  and  claw  feet,  the 
tall  clocks,  the  ravishing  andirons,  and  all  the 
other  old-fashioned  furniture  which  is  now  so 
precious  and  difficult  to  find.  Distance  may  lend 
such  enchantment  to  a  spinning-wheel,  a  warm- 
ing-pan, or  a  spinnet,  that  one  is  liable  to  become 
hysterical  in  praise  of  them,  and  a  calm,  aesthetic 
mind,  outside  the  limits  of  an  antique  furniture 
dealer's  store,  would  be  justified  in  stigmatizing 
many  of  the  now  cherished  effefts  of  our  great 
great-grandparents  as  truck;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  will  dispute  that  they  possessed  very 
many  lovely  things  ?  They  had  an  eye  for  grace- 
ful shapes  in  their  sideboards  and  tables;  some- 
how the  curves  they  imparted  to  the  backs  of 
their  chairs  cannot  be  duplicated  now  so  as  to 
look  the  same;  and  the  patterns  of  the  satins, 
flowered  chintzes,  and  other  stuffs  which  they 
used  for  covers  and  curtains,  exercise  a  witchery 

[7^] 


I 


House-Furnishing    &^ c . 


upon  us,  even  as  we  see  them  now  frayed  and 
faded,  which  cannot  proceed  wholly  from  the 
imagination. 

They  had  no  modern  comforts,  poor  things; 
no  furnaces,  no  ice-chests,  no  set  bath-tubs,  no 
running  water,  no  sanitary  improvements,  no 
gas  or  eledric  light;  and  their  piduresque  kitchen 
hearths,  with  great  caldrons  and  cranes  and  lea- 
ther blowers,  must  have  been  exceedingly  incon- 
venient to  cook  in;  but  even  their  most  incom- 
modious appliances  were  not  without  artistic 
charm. 

After  them  came  the  deluge — the  era  of 
horse-hair,  the  Sahara  of  democratic  unloveli- 
ness,  when  in  every  house,  in  every  country 
town,  the  set  best  room,  which  was  never  used 
by  the  family,  stood  like  a  mortuary  chapel 
solely  for  the  reception  of  guests.  In  the  cities, 
in  the  households  of  the  then  enlightened,  rep 
— generally  green — was  frequently  substituted 
for  the  sable  horse-hair.  Then  came  the  days 
when  a  dining-room  or  drawing-room  was  fur- 
nished in  one  pervasive  hue — a  suit  of  sables,  a 
brick  red,  a  dark  green,  or  a  deep  maroon.  Ev- 
erything matched;  the  chairs  and  tables,  desks 
and  book-cases  were  bought  in  sets  at  one  fell 

[73  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

swoop  by  the  householder  of  the  period  who  de- 
sired to  produce  artistic  efFefts.  For  forty  years 
or  so  this  was  the  prevailing  fashion,  and  the 
limit  of  purely  indigenous  expression. 

To  it  presently  succeeded  the  aesthetic  phase, 
borrowed  from  England.  Then,  instead  of  seled- 
ing  everything  to  match,  a  young  or  old  couple 
bought  so  as  just  not  to  match,  but  to  harmon- 
ize. All  sorts  of  queer  and  subtle  shades  and  tints 
in  wall-papers  and  fabrics  appeared,  principally 
dallyings  with  and  improvisings  upon  green, 
brown,  and  yellow;  frescos  and  dados  were  the 
rage;  and  a  wave  of  interest  in  the  scope  and 
mission  of  eccentric  color  spread  over  the  land. 
Valuable  as  this  movement  was  as  an  educational 
fador,  there  was  nothing  American  in  it;  or  in 
other  words,  we  were  again  simply  imitative.  The 
very  fad:,  however,  that  we  were  ready  to  imitate, 
betokened  that  horse-hair  and  rep  had  ceased 
to  satisfy  national  aspiration,  and  that  we  were 
willing  to  accept  suggestions  from  without,  in- 
asmuch as  no  native  prophet  had  arisen.  But 
though  the  impetus  came  from  abroad,  the  awak- 
ening was  genuine.  Since  then  the  desire  to  fur- 
nish tastefully  has  been  steadily  waxing  among 
the  more  well-to-do  portion  of  the  population. 

[74] 


Ho  use-  Fu  mis  hi  ng    ^  c . 

As  In  the  case  of  architedure,  the  increasing  in- 
terest has  called  into  existence  a  professional 
class,  which,  though  still  small  and  less  generally 
employed  than  their  house-designing  brethren, 
is  beginning  to  play  an  important  part  in  the 
education  of  the  public  taste  in  internal  house 
decoration  and  equipment.  The  idea  that  any 
man  or  woman  may  be  more  fitted  than  his 
or  her  neighbor  to  choose  a  carpet  or  a  wall- 
paper has  been  grudgingly  admitted,  and  still 
irritates  the  average  house-owner  who  is  ready 
to  furnish.  But  the  masters,  and  more  conspic- 
uously the  mistresses,  of  the  competing  superb 
establishments  in  our  cities,  have  learned,  from 
the  sad  experience  of  some  of  their  predeces- 
sors, to  swallow  their  individual  trust  in  their 
own  powers  of  seledion,  and  to  put  themselves 
unreservedly  into  the  clutches  of  a  professional 
house  decorator. 

Furnishing  a  mammoth  establishment  from 
top  to  bottom  with  somebody  else's  money,  and 
plenty  of  it,  must  be  a  delightful  occupation. 
There  can  be  no  carking  consciousness  of  price 
to  ad  as  a  drag  on  genius,  and  it  would  seem  as 
though  the  house  decorator  who  was  not  inter- 
fered with  under  these  circumstances  had  a  rare 

[75] 


The    Art    of  Living 

chance  to  show  what  is  what.  When  he  falls, 
which  is  by  no  means  out  of  the  question,  he 
can  ordinarily  shift  the  responsibility  on  to  his 
employer,  for  an  employer  can  rarely  resist  the 
temptation  of  insisting  on  some  one  touch  to 
prove  his  or  her  own  capacity,  and  of  course  it 
is  a  simple  matter  for  the  man  of  art  to  demon- 
strate that  this  one  touch  has  spoiled  everything. 
The  temptation  to  try  to  be  as  original  and  cap- 
tivating in  results  as  possible  must  be  almost  ir- 
resistible, especially  when  one's  elbow  is  con- 
stantly jogged  by  furniture  and  other  dealers, 
who  are  only  too  eager  to  reproduce  a  Direftory 
drawing-room  or  any  other  old-time  splendor. 
But  there  is  no  denying  that,  whatever  his  limi- 
tations, the  house  decorator  is  becoming  the  best 
of  educators  on  this  side  of  the  water,  for  though 
we  cannot  afford  or  have  too  much  confidence  in 
our  own  taste  to  employ  him,  our  wives  watch 
him  like  cats  and  are  taking  in  his  ideas  through 
the  pores,  if  not  diredly. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  almost  as  many  diverse 
styles  of  internal  ornamentation  as  of  external  ar- 
chitedure  in  our  modern  residences,  for  everyone 
who  has,  or  thinks  he  has,  an  aptitude  for  furnish- 
ing is  trying  his  professional  or  'prentice  hand, 

[76] 


House-Furnishing    &^ c. 

sometimes  with  startling  results  ;  yet  the  diversi- 
ties seem  less  significant  than  in  the  case  of  exter- 
nal architedlure,  or  perhaps  it  may  be  said  that 
the  sum  total  of  efFed:  is  much  nearer  to  finality 
or  perfeftion.  If  as  a  nation  we  are  deriving  the 
inspiration  for  the  furniture  and  upholsteries  of 
our  drawing-rooms  and  libraries  from  the  best 
French  and  Dutch  models  of  a  century  or  more 
ago,  we  certainly  can  boast  that  the  comfortable 
features  which  distinguish  our  apartments  from 
their  prototypes  are  a  native  growth.  If  as  a  peo- 
ple we  cannot  yet  point  to  great  original  artistic 
triumphs,  may  we  not  claim  the  spacious  and  dig- 
nified contemporary  refrigerator,  the  convenient 
laundry,  the  frequently  occurring  and  palatial 
bath-room,  the  health-conducing  ventilator-pipe 
and  sanitary  fixtures,  and  the  various  eledrical 
and  other  pipes,  tubes,  and  appliances  which 
have  become  a  part  of  every  well-ordered  house, 
as  a  national  cult  ?  To  be  genuinely  comfortable 
in  every-day  life  seems  to  have  become  the  aim 
all  the  world  over  of  the  individual  seeking  to 
live  wisely,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  is  in  our 
debt  for  the  many  valuable  mechanical  aids  to 
comfort  in  the  home  which  have  been  invented 
on  this  side  of  the  water. 

[77] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

This  quest  for  comfort  is  being  constantly 
borne  in  mind  also  in  the  aesthetic  sense.  We 
fit  our  drawing-rooms  now  to  live  in  as  well  as 
to  look  at.  We  exped  to  sit  on  our  sofas  and  in 
our  easy  chairs ;  hence  we  try  to  make  them  at- 
tradive  to  the  back  as  well  as  to  the  eye.  Though 
our  wives  may  still  occasionally  pull  down  the 
window-shades  to  exclude  a  too  dangerous  sun, 
they  no  longer  compel  us  to  view  our  best  rooms 
from  the  threshold  as  a  cold,  flawless,  forbidden 
land.  The  extreme  aesthetic  tendencies  which  were 
rampant  twenty  years  ago  have  been  toned  down 
by  this  inclination,  among  even  our  most  elabo- 
rate house-furnishers,  to  produce  the  effed:  that 
rooms  are  intended  for  every-day  use  by  rational 
beings.  The  ultra-queer  colors  have  disappeared, 
and  the  carpets  and  wall-papers  no  longer  sug- 
gest perpetual  biliousness  or  chronic  nightmare. 

I  think,  too,  the  idea  that  a  drawing-room  can 
be  made  bewitchingly  cosey  by  crowding  it  with 
all  one's  beautiful  and  ugly  earthly  possessions 
has  been  demonstrated  to  be  a  delusion.  In  these 
days  of  many  wedding  presents,  it  is  difficult  for 
young  people  to  resist  the  temptation  of  showing 
all  they  have  received.  I  remember  that  Mrs. 
George  J.  Spriggs — she  was  the  daughter,  you 

[78] 


I 


House-Furnishing    &f c. 

will  remember,  of  ex- Assistant  Postmaster-Gen- 
eral Homer  W.  Green — had  seven  lamps  in  her 
parlor  in  Locust  Road,  three  of  them  with  um- 
brageous Japanese  shades.  Her  husband  ex- 
plained to  me  that  there  had  been  a  run  on 
lamps  and  pepper-pots  in  their  individual  case. 
Now,  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar  would  have  managed 
more  cleverly.  She  would  have  made  the  lamp- 
dealer  exchange  four  or  five  of  the  lamps  for,  say, 
an  ornamental  brass  fender,  a  brass  coal-scuttle, 
or  a  Japanese  tea-tray,  and  have  made  the  jewel- 
ler substitute  some  equally  desirable  table  orna- 
ments for  the  pepper-pots.  And  yet,  when  I  made 
my  wedding  call  on  Mrs.  Caesar,  ten  years  ago,  I 
remember  thinking  that  her  drawing-room  was  a 
sort  of  compromise  between  a  curiosity  shop  and 
a  menagerie.  To  begin  with,  I  stumbled  over  the 
head  of  a  tiger  skin,  which  confronted  me  as  I 
passed  through  the  portiere^  so  that  I  nearly  fell 
into  the  arms  of  my  hostess.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  stepped  into  a  veritable  bazaar.  A  large 
bear  skin  lay  before  the  fire  as  a  hearth-rug,  and 
on  either  side  of  the  grate  squatted  a  large,  ori- 
entally conceived  china  dragon  with  an  open 
mouth.  Here  and  there,  under  furniture  or  in 
corners,  were  gaping  frogs  in  bronze  or  china.  A 

[79] 


The    Art    of  Living 

low  plush-covered  table  was  densely  arrayed  with 
small  china  dogs  of  every  degree.  On  another 
table  was  spread  a  number  of  silver  ornaments — 
a  silver  snuff-box,  a  silver  whistle,  a  silver  feather, 
a  silver  match-box,  and  a  silver  shoe-buckle — all 
objeds  of  virtu  of  apparently  antique  workman- 
ship. There  were  three  lamps  with  ornamental 
shades — a  fluted  china  shade,  a  paper  shade  in 
semblance  of  a  full-blown  rose,  and  a  yellow  satin 
shade  with  drooping  fringe.  From  the  low  stud- 
ded ceiling  depended  a  vast  Japanese  paper  lan- 
tern. Sundry  and  divers  china  vases  and  shep- 
herdesses occupied  the  mantel-piece  and  the  top 
of  the  book-case,  and  had  overflowed  on  to  a  writ- 
ing-table supplied  with  brass  ornaments.  There 
were  numerous  pidlures,  large  and  small,  on  the 
walls,  under  many  of  which  colored  china  plates 
had  been  hung.  There  were  photographs  in  frames 
everywhere.  The  aftual  space  where  I  could  stand 
without  knocking  over  anything  was  about  the 
size  of  a  hat  bath,  and  was  shut  in  by  a  circle  of 
low  chairs  and  divans  besprinkled  with  aesthetic 
yellow,  green,  and  pink  soft  silk  cushions.  On 
one  of  these  divans  my  hostess  was  reclining  in 
a  Grosvenor  gallery  tea-gown,  so  that  she  seemed 
to  wallow  in  cushions,  and  Julius  Caesar  himself 

[80] 


House-Furnishing    &^ c. 

was  sunk  in  the  depths  of  one  of  the  chairs,  so 
near  the  ground  that  his  knees  seemed  to  rest  on 
his  chin,  and  one  might  fairly  have  taken  him  for 
another  china  frog  of  extraordinary  proportions. 
All  this  in  a  comparatively  small  room  where 
there  were  several  other  knick-knacks  which  I 
have  omitted  to  mention.  Better  this,  perhaps, 
than  the  drawing-room  of  forty  years  ago,  when 
the  visitor's  gaze  was  bounded  by  cold  green  rep, 
and  he  was  restrained  only  by  decorum  from  hurl- 
ing into  the  fire  the  tidy  or  antimacassar  which 
tickled  his  neck,  or  detached  itself  and  wriggled 
down  between  his  back  and  the  back  of  the  chair. 
But  Mrs.  Caesar's  drawing-room,  in  her  new 
house  on  Belport  Avenue,  has  been  furnished 
from  a  very  different  point  of  view  than  her  first 
one,  which  shows  how  rapidly  tastes  change  in 
a  progressive  society.  Mrs.  Caesar  and  Julius 
chose  everything  themselves  this  time  as  they 
did  before,  but  they  had  learned  from  experi- 
ence, and  from  the  new  work  of  the  contempo- 
rary decorator.  There  is  plenty  of  unoccupied 
space  now  to  show  her  possessions  to  advantage, 
and  there  are  not  too  many  possessions  visible 
for  the  size  of  the  parlor;  there  is  neither  so 
much  uniformity  of  color  and  design  as  to  weary 
[8i  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

the  eye,  nor  so  much  variety  or  eccentricity  as 
to  irritate  it;  consequently,  the  effed  on  the  visi- 
tor is  not  that  he  is  in  a  room  intended  for  lux- 
urious display,  but  in  an  exquisitely  furnished 
room  adapted  for  daily  use.  In  other  words,  the 
controlling  idea  at  present,  of  those  who  seek  to 
make  their  houses  charming,  seems  to  be  to 
combine  comfort  with  elegance  so  skilfully  that 
while  one  may  realize  the  latter,  one  is  conscious 
only  of  the  former.  Though  decorators  are  still 
experimenting,  as  probably  they  always  will  be, 
to  attain  novel  effefts,  they  are  disposed  to  make 
use  of  queer  or  attenuated  hues,  Moorish  bla- 
zonry, stamped  leather,  peacock  feathers,  ele- 
phant tusks,  stained-glass  windows,  and  Japanese 
lacquer-work  with  much  more  discretion  than  a 
few  years  ago.  Virgin-white  instead  of  dirt-brown 
lights  up  our  halls  and  stair-cases,  and  the  vast 
chandeliers  which  used  to  dazzle  the  eye  no 
longer  dangle  from  the  ceiling.  Indeed,  it  seems 
as  though  it  would  be  difficult  to  make  the  in- 
terior of  the  homes  of  our  well-to-do  class  more 
comfortable  and  attradive  than  they  are  at  pre- 
sent. It  may  be  that  some  of  our  very  rich  people 
are  disposed  to  waste  their  energies  in  devising 
and  striving  for  more  consummate  elegance, 
[82] 


IP 


House-Furnishing    ^ c . 

thereby  exposing  us  all  to  the  charge  that  we  are 
becoming  too  luxurious  for  our  spiritual  good. 
But  there  can  be  little  question  that  the  ambition 
to  surround  one's  self  with  as  much  beauty,  con- 
sistent with  comfort,  as  one  can  afford  is  desir- 
able, even  from  the  ethical  standpoint. 

Undeniably  our  point  of  view  has  changed  ex- 
traordinarily in  the  last  thirty  years  in  regard  to 
house-furnishing,  as  in  regard  to  so  many  other 
matters  of  our  material  welfare,  and  there  cer- 
tainly is  some  ground  for  fearing  that  the  pen- 
dulum is  swinging  just  at  present  too  far  in  the 
diredlion  opposite  to  that  of  high  thinking  and 
low  living;  but,  after  all,  though  the  reaftion 
from  ugliness  has  been  and  continues  to  be  ex- 
uberant, it  is  as  yet  by  no  means  wide-embracing. 
In  faft,  our  cultivated  well-to-do  class — though 
it  is  well  abreast  of  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world 
in  aspiration  and  not  far  behind  it  in  accomplish- 
ment, with  certain  vivifying  traits  of  its  own 
which  the  old  world  societies  do  not  possess  or 
have  lost — is  still  comparatively  small;  and 
there  is  still  so  much  Stygian  darkness  outside  it 
in  resped  to  house-furnishing  and  home  comfort 
in  general,  that  we  can  afford  to  have  the  exuber- 
ance continue  for  the  present;  for  there  is  some 

'       [  83  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

reason  to  believe  that  most  of  the  descendants 
of  our  old  high  thinkers  have  become  high  livers, 
or  at  least,  if  low  livers,  have  ceased  to  be  high 
thinkers.  Mutton-soup  for  breakfast  and  unat- 
tractive domestic  surroundings  seem  to  comport 
nowadays  with  ignoble  aims,  if  nothing  worse; 
moreover,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  plain 
people  of  the  present  is  no  longer  the  plain  peo- 
ple of  forty  years  ago,  but  is  largely  the  seed  of 
the  influx  of  foreign  peasants,  chiefly  inferior 
and  often  scum,  which  the  sacredness  of  our  in- 
stitutions has  obliged  us  to  receive. 


[84] 


House-Furnishing    and    the 
Commissariat.      II. 


|F  we  have  become  cosmopolitan  in 
J  ^  the  matter  of  domestic  comfort  and 
elegance  as  regards  our  drawing- 
rooms,  the  same  is  certainly  true  of 
our  dining-rooms,  and  dinner-tables.  But  here 
it  seems  to  me  that  we  are  more  justly  open  to 
criticism  on  the  score  of  over-exuberance.  That 
is,  the  fairly  well-to-do  class,  for  the  plain  peo- 
ple of  foreign  blood,  and  the  low  liver  of  native 
blood,  eat  almost  as  indigestible  food,  and  quite 
as  rapidly  and  unceremoniously,  as  the  pie  and 
doughnut  nurtured  yeoman  of  original  Yankee 
stock,  who  thrived  in  spite  of  his  diet,  and  left 
to  his  grandchildren  the  heritage  of  dyspepsia 
which  has  become  nervous  prostration  in  the  pre- 
sent generation.  It  seems  as  though  our  instinds 
of  hospitality  have  grown  in  dired  ratio  with  our 
familiarity  with  and  adoption  of  civilized  crea- 
ture comforts,  and  any  charge  of  exuberance 
may  doubtless  be  fairly  ascribed  to  the  national 
trait  of  generosity,  the  abuse  of  which  is  after 
all  a  noble  blemish.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
fads  remain,  even  after  one  has  given  a  pleasing 

[8s] 


The    Art    of  Living 

excuse  for  their  existence,  and  it  may  be  doubted 
if  a  spendthrift  is  long  consoled  by  the  refledion 
that  his  impecuniosity  is  due  to  his  own  disin- 
clination to  stint.  May  it  not  truthfully  be 
charged  against  the  reasonably  well-to-do  Amer- 
ican citizen  that  he  has  a  prejudice  against  thrift, 
especially  where  the  entertainment  of  his  fellow 
man  or  woman  is  concerned  ?  The  rapid  growth 
of  wealth  and  the  comparative  facility  of  becom- 
ing rich  during  the  last  half  century  of  our  de- 
velopment, has  operated  against  the  praftice  of 
small  economies,  so  that  we  find  ourselves  now 
beset  by  extravagant  traditions  which  we  hesi- 
tate to  deviate  from  for  fear  of  seeming  mean. 
Many  a  man  to-day  pays  his  quarter  of  a  dollar 
ruefully  and  begrudgingly  to  the  colored  Pull- 
man car  porter  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  when 
he  is  "brushed  off,"  because  he  cannot  bring  him- 
self to  break  the  custom  which  fixed  the  fee.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  estimate  what  the  grand 
total  of  saving  to  the  American  travelling  public 
would  have  been  if  ten  instead  of  twenty-five 
cents  a  head  had  been  paid  to  the  tyrant  in  ques- 
tion since  he  first  darkened  the  situation.  If  not 
enough  to  maintain  free  schools  for  the  negro,  at 
least  sufficient  to  compel  railroad  managements 
[86] 


House-Furnishing    ^  c. 

to  give  their  employees  suitable  wages  instead 
of  letting  the  easy-going  traveller,  who  has  al- 
ready paid  for  the  privilege  of  a  reserved  seat, 
pay  a  premium  on  that.  The  exorbitant  fees  be- 
stowed on  waiters  is  but  another  instance  of  a 
tendency  to  be  over-generous,  which,  once  re- 
duced to  custom,  becomes  the  severest  kind  of 
tax,  in  that  it  is  likely  to  afFed  the  warmest- 
hearted  people. 

This  tendency  to  be  needlessly  lavish  in  ex- 
penditure is  most  conspicuous  when  we  are  of- 
fering hospitality  in  our  own  homes.  Among  the 
viands  which  we  have  added  to  the  bills  of  fare 
of  humanity,  roast  turkey  and  cranberry-sauce, 
Indian  meal,  and  probably  baked  beans,  are  en- 
titled to  conspicuous  and  honorable  mention,  but 
is  it  not  true,  notwithstanding  champagne  is  a 
foreign  wine,  that  the  most  prodigious  discovery 
in  the  line  of  food  or  drink  yet  made  by  the  well- 
to-do  people  of  this  country,  is  the  discovery  of 
champagne  ?  Does  it  not  flow  in  one  golden  ef- 
fervescing stream,  varied  only  by  the  pops  caused 
by  the  drawing  of  fresh  corks,  from  the  Statue 
of  Liberty  Enlightening  the  World  to  the  Gold- 
en Gate  ?  And  the  circumstance  that  every  pop 
costs  the  entertainer  between  three  and  four  dol- 

[87] 


The    Art    of  Living 

lars,  seems  in  no  wise  to  interrupt  the  cheery  ex- 
plosions. There  are  some  people  who  do  not 
drink  champagne  or  any  other  wine,  from  prin- 
ciple, and  there  are  some  with  whom  it  does  not 
agree,  but  the  average  individual  finds  that  the 
interest  of  festive  occasions  is  heightened  by  its 
presence  in  reasonable  abundance,  and  is  apt  to 
deplore  its  total  absence  with  internal  groans. 
But  surely  ninety-nine  men  in  our  large  cities 
out  of  one  hundred,  who  are  accustomed  to  en- 
tertain and  be  entertained,  must  be  weary  of  the 
sight  of  this  expensive  tempter  at  the  feast,  which 
it  is  so  difficult  to  refuse  when  set  before  one,  and 
which  is  so  often  quaffed  against  better  judgment 
or  inclination.  The  champagne  breakfast,  the 
champagne  luncheon,  the  champagne  dinner,  and 
the  champagne  supper,  with  a  champagne  cock- 
tail tossed  in  as  a  stop-gap,  hound  the  social  fa- 
vorite from  January  to  December,  until  he  is  fain 
to  dream  of  the  Old  Oaken  Bucket,  and  sooner 
or  later  to  drink  Lithia  water  only. 

With  perpetual  and  unremitting  champagne 
as  the  key-note  of  social  gatherings,  no  wonder 
that  the  table  ornaments  and  the  comestibles  be- 
come more  splendid.  A  little  dinner  of  eight  or 
ten  is  no  longer  a  simple  matter  of  a  cordial  in- 
[88] 


Ho  use-Furnish  ing    &^  c . 

vitation  and  an  extra  course.  The  hostess  who 
bids  her  contemporaries  to  dine  with  her  most 
informally  ten  days  hence,  uses  a  figure  of  speech 
which  is  innocuous  from  the  fad:  that  it  is  known 
to  be  a  deliberate  falsehood.  She  begins  gener- 
ally by  engaging  a  cook  from  outside  to  prepare 
the  dinner,  which  must  surely  wound  the  sensi- 
bilities of  any  self-respeding  couple  the  first  time, 
however  hardened  to  the  situation  they  may  be- 
come later. 

At  this  stage  of  my  refleftions  I  am  interrupted 
by  my  wife,  Barbara — for  I  was  thinking  aloud 
— with  a  few  words  of  expostulation. 

"  Are  you  not  a  little  severe  ?  I  assume  that 
you  are  referring  now  to  people  with  a  comfort- 
able income,  but  who  are  not  disgustingly  rich. 
Of  course,  nowadays,  the  very  rich  people  keep 
cooks  who  can  cook  for  a  dinner-party,  cooks  at 
eight  dollars  or  more  a  week  and  a  kitchen  maid  ; 
so  it  is  only  the  hostess  with  a  cook  at  four  and 
a  half  to  six  dollars  a  week  and  no  kitchen  maid 
who  is  likely  to  engage  an  accommodator.  But 
what  is  the  poor  thing  to  do  ?  Give  a  wretched, 
or  plain  dinner  which  may  make  her  hair  grow 
white  in  a  single  night  ?  Surely,  when  a  woman 
invites  friends  to  her  house  she  does  not  wish 

[89] 


The    Art    of  Living 

them  to  go  away  half  starved,  or  remembering 
that  they  have  had  disagreeable  things  to  eat. 
In  that  case  she  would  prefer  not  to  entertain  at 
all." 

"  The  question  is/'  I  answered, "  whether  it  is 
more  sensible  to  try  to  be  content  with  what  one 
has,  or  to  vie  with  those  who  are  better  off.  We 
do  not  attempt  to  dine  on  gold  plate,  nor  have 
we  a  piano  decorated  with  a  five-thousand-dollar 
painting  by  one  of  the  great  artists,  like  Patter- 
son, the  banker.  Why  should  we  endeavor  to 
compete  with  his  kitchen  ?  " 

"  The  clever  thing,  of  course,  is  to  find  a  cook 
for  six  dollars  a  week  who  can  cook  for  a  dinner- 
party," answered  Barbara,  pensively ; "  and  yet," 
she  added,"  though  our  cook  can,  the  chances  are 
that  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  people  who  dine  with 
us  think  that  we  hired  her  for  the  occasion." 

"  Precisely.  Just  because  the  custom  has  grown 
so.  It  is  sheer  extravagance." 

"  After  all,  my  dear,  it  is  a  comparatively  small 
matter — a  five-dollar  bill." 

"  Pardon  me.  Five  dollars  for  the  cook,  be- 
cause one's  own  cook  is  not  good  enough  ;  three 
or  five  dollars  for  an  accommodating  maid  or 
waiter,  because  you  cannot  trust  your  chamber- 

[90] 


House-Furnishing 

maid  to  assist  your  waitress ;  eight  dollars  for 
champagne,  and  so  on/' 

"  Do  not  say  ^  your  ' — mine  can." 

"  Her,  then — the  woman  of  the  day.  I  am  try- 
ing to  show  that  a  small  informal  dinner  is  a 
cruelly  expensive  affair  for  the  average  man  with 
a  comfortable  working  income." 

"  I  admit  that  a  dinner  for  eight  or  ten  is  ex- 
pensive," said  Barbara.  "  It  means  twenty-five 
dollars  at  the  lowest,  even  if  you  have  your  own 
cook.  But  what  is  one  to  do  ?  You  don't  seem 
to  appreciate  that  a  good  plain  cook  cannot  usu- 
ally prepare  dinner-party  dishes,  and  that  a  plain 
dinner  is  now  almost  as  different  from  a  dinner- 
party dinner  as  a  boiled  egg  is  from  caviare." 

"  Precisely.  There  is  the  pity  of  it.  The  growth 
here  of  the  French  restaurant  and  the  taste  for 
rich  and  elaborate  cookery  has  doubtless  been  a 
good  thing  in  its  way,  if  only  that  it  is  now  pos- 
sible to  obtain  a  tolerably  well-cooked  meal  at 
most  of  the  hotels  in  our  large  cities  and  principal 
watering-places  ;  but  why  should  people  of  mod- 
erate means  and  social  instinds  feel  constrained 
to  offer  a  banquet  on  every  occasion  when  they 
entertain  ?  I  for  one  consider  it  a  bore  to  have 
so  much  provided  when  I  go  out  to  dinner." 

[91  ] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

"  You  must  admit/'  said  Barbara,  "  that  din- 
ners are  not  nearly  so  long  as  they  were  a  few 
years  ago.  Now,  by  means  of  the  extra  service 
you  complain  of,  and  by  keeping  the  number  of 
courses  down,  a  dinner  ought  not  to  last  longer 
than  an  hour  and  a  half,  whereas  it  used  to  take 
two  hours  and  over.  In  England  they  are  much 
worse  than  here.  You  are  given,  for  instance, 
two  puddings,  one  after  the  other,  and  ices  to 
follow." 

"  I  agree,"  said  I,  "  that  we  have  curtailed  the 
length  so  that  there  is  not  much  to  complain  of 
on  that  score.  I  think,  though,  that  compara- 
tively plain  dishes  well  served  are  quite  as  apt 
to  please  as  the  aspics,  chartreuses,  timbales,  and 
other  impressive  gallicisms  under  which  the  ac- 
commodating party  cook  is  wont  to  cater  to  the 
palates  of  informally  invited  guests.  I  sometimes 
think  that  the  very  few  of  our  great  great-grand- 
fathers who  knew  how  to  live  at  all  must  have 
had  more  appetizing  tables  than  we.  Their  family 
cooks,  from  all  accounts,  knew  how  to  roast  and 
boil  and  bake  and  stew,  culinary  arts  which  some- 
how seem  to  be  little  understood  by  the  chefs 
of  to-day.  Then  again,  the  old-fashioned  Delft 
crockery — blue  ships  sailing  on  a  blue  sea — was 

[9^] 


House-Furnishing    &^ c . 

very  attradlive.  Our  modern  dinner-tables,  when 
arrayed  for  a  party,  have  almost  too  much  fuss 
and  feathers.  Women  worry  until  they  get  cut 
glass,  if  it  is  not  given  them  as  a  wedding  pre- 
sent, and  several  sets  of  costly  plates — Sevres, 
Dresden,  or  Crown  Derby — are  apt  to  seem 
indispensable  to  housekeepers  of  comparatively 
limited  means." 

"  Cut  glass  is  lovely,  and  the  same  plates 
through  seven  courses  are  rather  trying,"  said 
Barbara,  parenthetically. 

"Of  course  it  is  lovely,  and  I  am  very  glad 
you  have  some.  But  is  not  the  modern  Ameri- 
can woman  of  refined  sensibilities  just  a  little  too 
eager  to  crowd  her  table  with  every  article  of 
virtu  she  possesses — every  ornamental  spoon, 
dish,  cup,  and  candlestick — until  one  is  unable 
to  see  at  any  one  spot  more  than  a  square  inch 
of  tablecloth  ?  In  the  centre  of  the  table  she  sets 
a  crystal  bowl  of  flowers,  a  silver  basket  of  ferns, 
or  a  dish  of  fruit.  This  is  flanked  by  apostle  or 
gold-lined  spoons,  silver  dishes  of  confedionery 
of  various  kinds,  silver  candlesticks  or  candela-- 
bra  fitted  with  pink  or  saffron  shades,  one  or  two 
of  which  are  expeded  to  catch  fire,  an  array  of 
cut  glass  or  Venetian  glass  at  every  plate,  and, 

[93] 


The    Art    of  Living 

like  as  not,  pansies  strewn  all  over  the  table." 
"The  modern  dinner-table  is  very  pretty," 
responded  Barbara.  "I  don't  see  how  it  could 
be  improved  materially." 

"I  dare  say,  but  somehow  one  can't  help 
thinking  at  times  that  the  eiFort  for  efFed  is  too 
noticeable,  and  that  the  real  objed  of  sitting  down 
to  dinner  in  company,  agreeable  social  inter- 
course, is  consequently  lost  sight  of.  If  only  the 
very  rich  were  guilty  of  wanton  display,  the  an- 
swer would  be  that  the  rank  and  file  of  our  well- 
to-do,  sensible  people  have  very  simple  enter- 
tainments. Unfortunately,  while  the  very  rich 
are  constantly  vying  to  outstrip  one  another,  the 
dinner-table  and  the  dinner  of  the  well-to-do 
American  are  each  growing  more  and  more  com- 
plex and  elaborate.  Perhaps  not  more  so  than 
abroad  among  the  nobility  or  people  of  means; 
but  certainly  we  have  been  Europeanized  in  this 
resped  to  such  an  extent  that,  not  only  is  there 
pradically  nothing  left  for  us  to  learn  in  the  way 
of  being  luxurious,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  we 
are  not  disposed  to  convince  the  rest  of  the  civi- 
lized world  that  a  free-born  American,  when 
fully  developed,  can  be  the  most  luxurious  in-j 
dividual  on  earth." 

[94] 


House-Furnishing    &^ c . 

Barbara  looked  a  little  grave  at  this.  "Every- 
thing used  to  be  so  ugly  and  unattractive  a  little 
while  ago  that  I  suppose  our  heads  have  been 
turned,"  she  answered.  "After  this  I  shall  make 
a  rule,  when  we  give  a  dinner-party,  to  keep  one- 
half  of  my  table  ornaments  in  the  safe  as  a  re- 
buke to  my  vanity.  Only  if  I  am  to  show  so 
much  of  the  tablecloth,  I  shall  have  to  buy  some 
with  handsome  patterns.  Don't  you  see?" 

Perhaps  this  suggestion  that  our  heads  have 
been  turned  for  the  time  being  by  our  national 
prosperity,  and  that  they  will  become  straight 
again  in  due  course  of  time,  is  the  most  sensible 
view  to  take  of  the  situation.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  among  well-to-do  people,  who  would 
objeft  to  be  classed  in  "the  smart  set,"  as  the  re- 
porters of  social  gossip  odiously  charadlerize 
those  prominent  in  fashionable  society  in  our 
large  cities,  the  changes  in  the  last  thirty  years 
connected  with  every-day  living,  as  well  as  with 
entertaining,  have  all  been  in  the  direftion  of 
cosmopolitan  usage.  It  is  now  only  a  very  old- 
fashioned  or  a  very  blatant  person  who  objed:s  to 
the  use  of  evening  dress  at  the  dinner-table,  or 
the  theatre,  as  inconsistent  with  true  patriotism. 
The  dinner-hour  has  steadily  progressed  from 

[95] 


The    Art    of  Living 

twelve  o'clock  noon  until  It  has  halted  at  seven 
post  meridian,  as  the  ordinary  hour  for  the  most 
formal  meal  of  the  day,  with  further  postpone- 
ment to  half-past  seven  or  even  eight  among  the 
fashionable  for  the  sake  of  company.  The  fry- 
ing-pan and  the  tea-pot  have  ceased  to  reign  su- 
preme as  the  patron  saints  of  female  nutrition, 
and  the  beefsteak,  the  egg,  both  cooked  and  raw, 
milk  and  other  flesh-and-blood-producing  food 
are  abundantly  supplied  to  the  rising  generation 
of  both  sexes  by  the  provident  parent  of  to-day. 
The  price  of  beef  in  our  large  cities  has  steadily 
advanced  in  price  until  its  use  as  an  article  of 
diet  is  a  serious  monster  to  encounter  in  the 
monthly  bills,  but  the  husband  and  father  who 
is  seeking  to  live  wisely,  seems  not  to  be  de- 
terred from  providing  it  abundantly. 

From  this  it  is  evident  that  if  we  are  unduly 
exuberant  in  the  pursuit  of  creature  comforts,  it 
is  not  solely  in  the  line  of  purely  ornamental  lux- 
uries. If  we  continue  to  try  our  nervous  systems 
by  undue  exertion,  they  are  at  least  better  fitted 
to  stand  the  strain,  by  virtue  of  plenty  of  nutri- 
tious food,  even  though  dinner-parties  tempt  us 
now  and  then  to  over-indulgence,  or  bore  us  by 
their  elaborateness.  Yet  it  remains  to  be  seen 


I 


House-Furnishing    ^ c . 

whether  the  income  of  the  American  husband 
and  father  will  be  able  to  stand  the  steady  drain 
occasioned  by  the  liberal  table  he  provides,  and 
it  may  be  that  we  have  some  lessons  in  thrift  on 
this  score  still  in  store  for  us.  There  is  this  con- 
solation, that  if  our  heads  have  been  turned  in 
this  resped  also,  and  we  are  supplying  more  food 
for  our  human  furnaces  than  they  need,  the  force 
of  any  readion  will  not  fall  on  us,  but  on  the 
market-men,  who  are  such  a  privileged  class  that 
our  candidates  for  public  office  commonly  pro- 
vide a  rally  for  their  special  edification  just  be- 
fore eleftion-day,  and  whose  white  smock-frocks 
are  commonly  a  cloak  for  fat  though  greasy 
purses.  Yet  Providence  seems  to  smile  on  the 
market-man  in  that  it  has  given  him  the  tele- 
phone, through  which  the  modern  mistress  can 
order  her  dinner,  or  command  chops  or  birds, 
when  unexpeded  guests  are  foreshadowed.  Ow- 
ing to  the  multiplicity  of  the  demands  upon  the 
time  of  both  men  and  women,  the  custom  of 
going  to  market  in  person  has  largely  fallen  into 
decay.  The  butcher  and  grocer  send  assistants 
to  the  house  for  orders,  and  the  daily  personal 
encounter  with  the  smug  man  in  white,  which 
used  to  be  as  inevitable  as  the  dinner,  has  now 

[97] 


The    Art    of  Living 

mainly  been  relegated  to  the  blushing  bride  of 
from  one  week  to  two  years'  standing,  and  the 
people  who  pay  cash  for  everything.  Very  likely 
we  are  assessed  for  the  privilege  of  not  being 
obliged  to  nose  our  turkeys  and  see  our  chops 
weighed  in  advance,  and  it  is  difficult  to  answer 
the  stridures  of  those  who  sigh  for  what  they 
call  the  good  old  times,  when  it  was  every  man's 
duty,  before  he  went  to  his  office,  to  look  over 
his  butcher's  entire  stock  and  sele6l  the  fattest 
and  juiciest  edibles  for  the  consumption  of  him- 
self and  family.  As  for  paying  cash  for  every- 
thing, my  wife  Barbara  says  that,  unless  people 
are  obliged  to  be  extremely  economical,  no  wo- 
man in  this  age  of  nervous  prostration  ought  to 
run  the  risk  of  bringing  on  that  dire  malady  by 
any  such  imprudence,  and  that  to  save  five  dol- 
lars a  month  on  a  butcher's  bill,  and  pay  twenty- 
five  to  a  physician  for  ruined  nerves,  is  false  po- 
litical economy. 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  she  added,  "  that  we 
Americans  live  extravagantly  in  the  matter  of 
daily  food — especially  meat — as  compared  with 
the  general  run  of  people  in  other  countries  ;  but 
far  more  serious  than  our  appetites  and  liberal 
habits,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  horrible  waste  which 

[98] 


House-Furnishing 

goes  on  in  our  kitchens,  due  to  the  faft  that  our 
cooks  are  totally  ignorant  of  the  art  of  making  the 
most  of  things.  Abroad,  particularly  on  the  Conti- 
nent, they  understand  how  to  utilize  every  scrap, 
so  that  many  a  comfortable  meal  is  provided  from 
what  our  servants  habitually  cast  into  the  swill- 
tub.  Here  there  is  perpetual  waste — waste — 
waste,  and  no  one  seems  to  understand  how  to  pre- 
vent it.  There  you  have  one  never-failing  reason 
for  the  size  of  our  butchers'  and  grocers'  bills." 
I  assume  that  my  wife,  who  is  an  intelligent 
person,  must  be  corred  in  this  accusation  of 
general  wastefulness  which  she  makes  against  the 
American  kitchen.  If  so,  here  we  are  confronted 
again  with  the  question  of  domestic  service  from 
another  point  of  view.  How  long  can  we  afford 
to  throw  our  substance  into  the  swill-tub  ?  If  our 
emigrant  cooks  do  not  understand  the  art  of  uti- 
lizing scraps  and  remnants,  are  we  to  continue  to 
enrich  our  butchers  without  let  or  hindrance  ?  It 
would  seem  that  if  the  American  housewife  does 
not  take  this  matter  in  hand  promptly,  the  cruel 
laws  of  political  economy  will  soon  convince  her 
by  grisly  experience  that  neither  poetry  nor  phi- 
lanthropy can  flourish  in  a  land  where  there  is 
perpetual  waste  below  stairs. 


Education, 
I. 


5N  occasions  of  oratory  in  this 
country,  nothing  will  arouse  an 
audience  more  quickly  than  an 
allusion  to  our  public  school  sys- 
tem, and  any  speaker  who  sees 
fit  to  apostrophize  it  is  certain  to  be  fervidly 
applauded.  Moreover,  in  private  conversation, 
whether  with  our  countrymen  or  with  foreign- 
ers, every  citizen  is  prone  to  indulge  in  the  state- 
ment, commonly  uttered  with  some  degree  of 
emotion,  that  our  public  schools  are  the  great 
bulwarks  of  progressive  democracy.  Why,  then, 
is  the  American  parent,  as  soon  as  he  becomes 
well-to-do,  apt  to  send  his  children  elsewhere  ? 
I  was  walking  down  town  with  a  friend  the 
other  day,  and  he  asked  me  casually  where  I  sent 
my  boys  to  school.  When  I  told  him  that  they 
attended  a  public  school  he  said,  promptly, "  Good 
enough.  I  like  to  see  a  man  do  it.  It 's  the  right 
thing.'*  I  acquiesced  modestly  ;  then,  as  I  knew 
that  he  had  a  boy  of  his  own,  I  asked  him  the 
same  question. 

"  My  son,"  he  replied  slowly,  "  goes  to  Mr. 
[  lOO  ] 


Education 


Bingham's"  —  indicating  a  private  school  for 
boys  in  the  neighborhood.  "  He  is  a  little  deli- 
cate—  that  is,  he  had  measles  last  summer,  and 
has  never  quite  recovered  his  strength.  I  had  al- 
most made  up  my  mind  to  send  him  to  a  public 
school,  so  that  he  might  mix  with  all  kinds  of 
boys,  but  his  mother  seemed  to  think  that  the 
chances  of  his  catching  scarlet  fever  or  diphtheria 
would  be  greater,  and  she  has  an  idea  that  he 
would  make  undesirable  acquaintances  and  learn 
things  which  he  shouldn't.  So,  on  the  whole, 
we  decided  to  send  him  to  Bingham's.  But  I 
agree  that  you  are  right." 

There  are  many  men  in  the  community  who, 
like  my  friend,  believe  thoroughly  that  every  one 
would  do  well  to  send  his  boys  to  a  public  school 
— that  is,  every  one  but  themselves.  When  it 
comes  to  the  case  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood 
they  hesitate,  and  in  nine  instances  out  often,  on 
some  plea  or  other,  turn  their  backs  on  the  prin- 
ciples they  profess.  This  is  especially  true  in  our 
cities,  and  it  has  been  more  or  less  true  ever  since 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  ;  and  as  a  proof 
of  the  flourishing  condition  of  the  tendency  at 
present,  it  is  necessary  merely  to  instance  the 
numerous  private  schools  all  over  the  country. 
[  loi  ] 


'  The'  Art    of  Living 

The  pupils  at  these  private  schools  are  the  chil- 
dren of  our  people  of  means  and  social  promi- 
nence, the  people  who  ought  to  be  the  most  pa- 
triotic citizens  of  the  Republic. 

I  frankly  state  that  I,  for  one,  would  not  send 
my  boys  to  a  public  school  unless  I  believed  the 
school  to  be  a  good  one.  Whatever  other  mo- 
tives may  influence  parents,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  many  are  finally  deterred  from  sending  their 
boys  to  a  public  school  by  the  convidion  that  the 
education  offlsred  to  their  sons  in  return  for  taxes 
is  inferior  to  what  can  be  obtained  by  private  con- 
trad:.  Though  a  father  may  be  desirous  to  have 
his  boys  understand  early  the  theory  of  demo- 
cratic equality,  he  may  well  hesitate  to  let  them 
remain  comparatively  ignorant  in  order  to  im- 
press upon  them  this  dodrine.  In  this  age,  when 
so  much  stress  is  laid  on  the  importance  of  giving 
one's  children  the  best  education  possible,  it  seems 
too  large  a  price  to  pay.  Why,  after  all,  should 
a  citizen  send  his  boys  to  a  school  provided  by 
the  State,  if  better  schools  exist  in  the  neighbor- 
hood which  he  can  affbrd  to  have  them  attend  ? 

This  convidion  on  the  part  of  parents  is  cer- 
tainly justified  in  many  sedions  of  the  country, 
and  when  justifiable,  disarms  the  critic  who  is 

[   I02  ] 


Education 


prepared  to  take  a  father  to  task  for  sending  his 
children  to  a  private  school.  Also,  it  is  the  only 
argument  which  the  well-to-do  aristocrat  can  suc- 
cessfully proted  himself  behind.  It  is  a  full  suit 
of  armor  in  itself,  but  it  is  all  he  has.  Every  other 
excuse  which  he  can  give  is  flimsy  as  tissue-paper, 
and  exposes  him  utterly.  Therefore,  if  the  State 
is  desirous  to  educate  the  sons  of  its  leading  citi- 
zens, it  ought  to  make  sure  that  the  public  schools 
are  second  to  none  in  the  land.  If  it  does  not,  it 
has  only  itself  to  blame  if  they  are  educated  apart 
from  the  sons  of  the  masses  of  the  population. 
Nor  is  it  an  answer  to  quote  the  Fourth  of  July 
orator,  that  our  public  schools  are  second  to  none 
in  the  world ;  for  one  has  only  to  investigate  to 
be  convinced  that,  both  as  regards  the  methods 
of  teaching  and  as  regards  ventilation,  many  of 
them  all  over  the  country  are  signally  inferior  to 
the  school  as  it  should  be,  and  the  school,  both 
public  and  private,  as  it  is  in  certain  localities. 
So  long  as  school  boards  and  committees,  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  are  composed  mainly 
of  political  aspirants  without  experience  in  educa- 
tional matters,  and  who  seek  to  serve  as  a  first  or 
second  step  toward  the  White  House,  our  public 
schools  are  likely  to  remain  only  pretty  good.  So 

[  103  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

long  as  people  with  axes  to  grind,  or,  more  plainly 
speaking,  text-books  to  circulate,  are  chosen  to 
office,  our  public  schools  are  not  likely  to  im- 
prove. So  long — and  here  is  the  most  serious 
faftor  of  all — so  long  as  the  well-to-do  American 
father  and  mother  continue  to  be  sublimely  in- 
different to  the  condition  of  the  public  schools, 
the  public  schools  will  never  be  so  good  as  they 
ought  to  be. 

It  must  certainly  be  a  source  of  constant  dis- 
couragement to  the  earnest-minded  people  in  this 
country,  who  are  interested  in  education,  and  are 
at  the  same  time  believers  in  our  professed  na- 
tional hostility  to  class  distindions,  that  the  well- 
to-do  American  parent  so  calmly  turns  his  back 
on  the  public  schools,  and  regards  them  very 
much  from  the  lofty  standpoint  from  which  cer- 
tain persons  are  wont  to  regard  religion — as  an 
excellent  thing  for  the  masses,  but  superfluous  for 
themselves.  Of  course,  if  we  are  going,  in  this  re- 
sped  also,  to  model  ourselves  on  and  imitate  the 
older  civilizations,  there  is  nothing  to  be  said.  If 
the  public  schools  are  to  be  merely  a  semi-chari- 
table institution  for  children  whose  parents  can- 
not afford  to  separate  them  from  the  common 
herd,  the  discussion  ceases.  But  what  becomes, 
[  104  ] 


Education 


then,  of  our  cherished  and  Fourth  of  July  sanc- 
tified theories  of  equality  and  common  school 
education  ?  And  what  do  we  mean  when  we  prate 
of  a  common  humanity,  and  no  upper  class  ? 

It  is  in  the  city  or  town,  where  the  public 
school  is  equal  or  superior  to  the  private  school, 
that  the  real  test  comes.  Yet  in  these  places  well- 
to-do  parents  seem  almost  as  indifferent  as  when 
they  have  the  righteous  defence  that  their  chil- 
dren would  be  imperfedly  educated,  or  breathe 
foul  air,  were  they  to  be  sent  to  a  public  school. 
They  take  no  interest,  and  they  fairly  bristle 
with  polite  and  ingenious  excuses  for  evading 
compliance  with  the  institutions  of  their  country. 
This  is  true,  probably,  of  three-fifths  of  those 
parents,  who  can  afford,  if  necessary,  to  pay  for 
private  instruction.  And  having  once  made  the 
decision  that,  for  some  reason,  a  public  school 
education  is  not  desirable  for  their  children,  they 
feel  absolved  from  further  responsibility  and 
praftically  wash  their  hands  of  the  matter.  It  is 
notorious  that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
children  of  the  leading  bankers,  merchants,  pro- 
fessional men,  and  other  influential  citizens,  who 
reside  in  the  so-called  court  end  of  our  large 
cities,  do  not  attend  the  public  schools,  and  it  is 

[  105] 


The    Art    of  Living 

equally  notorious  that  the  existence  of  a  well- 
condufted  and  satisfadory  school  in  the  distrid 
afFeds  the  attendance  comparatively  little.  If 
only  this  element  of  the  population,  which  is 
now  so  indifferent,  would  interest  itself  adively, 
what  a  vast  improvement  could  be  effefted  in 
our  public  school  system!  If  the  parents  in  the 
community,  whose  standards  of  life  are  the  high- 
est, and  whose  ideas  are  the  most  enlightened, 
would  as  a  class  co-operate  in  the  advancement 
of  common  education,  the  charge  that  our  public 
schools  produce  on  the  whole  second-rate  ac- 
quirements, and  second-rate  morals  and  manners, 
would  soon  be  refuted,  and  the  cause  of  popular 
education  would  cease  to  be  handicapped,  as  it  is 
at  present,  by  the  coolness  of  the  well-to-do  class. 
If  the  public  schools,  in  those  sedions  of  our 
cities  where  our  most  intelligent  and  influential 
citizens  have  their  homes,  are  unsatisfadory, 
they  could  speedily  be  made  as  good  as  any  pri- 
vate school,  were  the  same  interest  manifested 
by  the  tax-payers  as  is  shown  when  an  undesir- 
able pavement  is  laid,  or  a  company  threatens  to 
provide  rapid  transit  before  their  doors.  Unfor- 
tunately, that  same  spirit  of  aloofness,  which  has 
in  the  past  operated  largely  to  exclude  this  ele- 
[  io6  3 


Education 


ment  in  the  nation  from  participation  in  the  af- 
fairs of  popular  government,  seems  to  be  at  the 
bottom  of  this  matter.  Certainly  much  progress 
has  been  made  in  the  last  twenty  years  in  reme- 
dying the  political  evil,  and  the  public  good  ap- 
pears to  demand  a  change  of  front  from  the  same 
class  of  people  on  the  subjed:  of  common  educa- 
tion, unless  we  are  prepared  to  advocate  the  ex- 
istence and  growth  of  a  favored,  special  class,  out 
of  touch  with,  and  at  heart  disdainful  of,  the 
average  citizen. 

The  most  serious  enemies  of  the  public  schools 
among  well-to-do  people  appear  to  be  women. 
Many  a  man,  alive  to  the  importance  of  educat- 
ing his  sons  in  conformity  with  the  spirit  of  our 
Constitution,  would  like  to  send  his  boys  to  a 
public  school,  but  is  deterred  by  his  wife.  A 
mother  accustomed  to  the  refinements  of  modern 
civilization  is  apt  to  shrink  from  sending  her 
fleckless  darling  to  consort,  and  possibly  become 
the  boon  companion  or  bosom  friend,  of  a  street 
waif 

She  urges  the  danger  of  contamination,  both 
physical  and  moral,  and  is  only  too  glad  to  dis- 
cover an  excuse  for  refusing  to  yield.  "Would 
you  like  to  have  your  precious  boy  sit  side  by 

[  107  J 


The    Art    of  Living 

side  with  a  little  negro  ?''  I  was  asked  one  day, 
in  horrified  accents,  by  a  well-to-do  American 
mother;  and  I  have  heard  many  fears  expressed 
by  others  that  their  offspring  would  learn  vice, 
or  contrad  disease,  through  daily  association 
with  the  children  of  the  mass.  It  is  not  unjust  to 
state  that  the  average  well-to-do  mother  is  grati- 
fied when  the  public  school,  to  which  her  sons 
would  otherwise  be  sent,  is  so  unsatisfadory  that 
their  father's  patriotism  is  overborne  by  other 
considerations.  All  theories  of  government  or  hu- 
manity are  lost  sight  of  in  her  desire  to  shelter 
her  boys,  and  the  simplest  way  to  her  seems  to 
be  to  set  them  apart  from  the  rest  of  creation,  in- 
stead of  taking  pains  to  make  sure  that  they  are 
suitably  taught  and  proteded  side  by  side  with 
the  other  children  of  the  community. 

Excellent  as  many  of  our  private  schools  are, 
it  is  doubtful  if  either  the  morals  are  better,  or 
the  liability  to  disease  is  less,  among  the  children 
who  attend  them  than  at  a  public  school  of  the 
best  class.  To  begin  with,  the  private  schools  in 
our  cities  are  eagerly  patronized  by  that  not  in- 
considerable class  of  parents  who  hope  or  ima- 
gine that  the  social  position  of  their  children  is  to 
be  established  by  association  with  the  children  of 
[  io8  ] 


Education 


influential  people.  Falsehood,  meanness,  and  un- 
worthy ambitions  are  quite  as  dangerous  to  char- 
ader,  when  the  little  man  who  suggests  them  has 
no  patches  on  his  breeches,  as  when  he  has,  and 
unfortunately  there  are  no  outward  signs  on  the 
moral  nature,  like  holes  in  trousers,  to  serve  as 
danger  signals  to  our  darlings.  Then  again,  those 
of  us  who  occupy  comfortable  houses  in  desir- 
able localities,  will  generally  find  on  investigation 
that  the  average  of  the  class  of  children  which  at- 
tend the  public  school  in  such  a  distrid  is  much 
superior  to  what  paternal  or  maternal  fancy  has 
painted.  In  such  a  distrid  the  children  of  the 
ignorant  emigrant  class  are  not  to  be  found  in 
large  numbers.  The  pupils  consist  mainly  of  the 
rank  and  file  of  the  native  American  population, 
whose  tendencies  and  capacities  for  good  have 
always  been,  and  continue  to  be,  the  basis  of  our 
strength  as  a  people.  There  is  no  need  that  a 
mother  with  delicate  sensibilities  should  send  her 
son  into  the  slums  in  order  to  obtain  for  him  a 
common  school  education ;  she  has  merely  to  con- 
sent that  he  take  his  chances  with  the  rest  of  the 
children  of  the  distrid  in  which  he  lives,  and 
bend  her  own  energies  to  make  the  standards  of 
that  school  as  high  as  possible.  In  that  way  she 

[   109  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

will  best  help  to  raise  the  tone  of  the  commu- 
nity as  a  whole,  and  best  aid  to  obliterate  those 
class  distinftions  which,  in  spite  of  Fourth  of 
July  negations,  are  beginning  to  expose  us  to  the 
charge  of  insincerity. 

When  a  boy  has  reached  the  age  of  eleven  or 
twelve,  another  consideration  presents  itself 
which  is  a  source  of  serious  perplexity  to  pa- 
rents. Shall  he  be  educated  at  home — that  is,  at- 
tend school  in  his  own  city  or  town — or  be  sent 
to  one  of  the  boarding-schools  or  academies 
which  are  ready  to  open  their  doors  to  him  and 
fit  him  for  college  ?  Here  again  we  are  met  by 
the  suggestion  that  the  boarding-school  of  this 
type  is  not  a  native  growth,  but  an  exotic.  Eng- 
land has  supplied  us  with  a  precedent.  The  great 
boarding-schools,  Rugby,  Eton,  and  Harrow, 
are  the  resort  of  the  gentlemen  of  England. 
Though  termed  public  schools,  they  are  class 
schools,  reserved  and  intended  for  the  education 
of  only  the  highly  respeftable.  The  sons  of  the 
butcher,  the  baker,  and  candlestick-maker  are  not 
formally  barred,  but  they  are  tacitly  excluded. 
The  pupils  are  the  sons  of  the  upper  and  well- 
to-do  middle  classes.  A  few  boarding-schools  for 
boys  have  been  in  existence  here  for  many  years, 
[no] 


Education 


but  In  the  last  twenty  there  has  been  a  notable 
increase  in  their  number  and  importance.  These, 
too,  are  essentially  class  schools,  for  though  os- 
tensibly open  to  everybody,  the  charges  for  tui- 
tion and  living  are  beyond  the  means  of  parents 
with  a  small  income.  Most  of  them  are  schools 
of  a  religious  denomination,  though  commonly 
a  belief  in  the  creed  for  which  the  institution 
stands  is  not  made  a  formal  requisite  for  admis- 
sion. The  most  successful  profess  the  Episco- 
palian faith,  and  in  other  essential  respefts  are 
modelled  deliberately  on  the  English  public 
schools. 

The  strongest  argument  for  sending  a  boy  to 
one  of  these  schools  is  the  fresh-air  plea.  Unde- 
niably, the  growing  boy  in  a  large  city  is  at  a  dis- 
advantage. He  can  rarely,  if  ever,  obtain  oppor- 
tunities for  healthful  exercise  and  recreation 
equal  to  those  afforded  by  a  well-conduded 
boarding-school.  He  is  likely  to  become  a  little 
man  too  early,  or  else  to  sit  in  the  house  because 
there  is  nowhere  to  play.  At  a  boarding-school 
he  will,  under  firm  but  gentle  discipline,  keep 
regular  hours,  eat  simple  food,  and  between  study 
times  be  stimulated  to  cultivate  athletic  or  other 
outdoor  pursuits.  It  is  not  strange  that  parents 

[  III] 


The    Art    of  Living 

should  be  attraded  by  the  comparison,  and  de- 
cide that,  on  the  whole,  their  boys  will  fare  better 
away  from  home.  Obviously  the  aristocratic 
mother  will  point  out  to  her  husband  that  his 
predileftion  for  the  public  school  system  is  an- 
swered by  the  fadl  that  the  State  does  not  supply 
schools  away  from  the  city,  where  abundant  fresh 
air  and  a  famous  foot-ball  field  are  appurtenant 
to  the  institution.  Tom  Brown  at  Rugby  recurs 
to  them  both,  and  they  conclude  that  what  has 
been  good  enough  for  generations  of  English 
boys  will  be  best  for  their  own  son  and  heir. 

On  the  other  hand,  have  we  Americans  ever 
quite  reconciled  ourselves  to,  and  sympathized 
with,  the  traditional  attitude  of  English  parents 
toward  their  sons  as  portrayed  in  veracious  fic- 
tion? The  day  of  parting  comes;  the  mother, 
red-eyed  from  secret  weeping,  tries  not  to  break 
down;  the  blubbering  sisters  throw  their  arms  ' 
around  the  neck  of  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and  slip 
pen-wipers  of  their  own  precious  making  into 
his  pockets ;  the  father,  abnormally  stern  to  hide 
his  emotion,  says,  bluffly,  "Good-by,  Tom;  it 's 
time  to  be  oflF,  and  we  '11  see  you  again  at  Christ- 
mas." And  out  goes  Tom,  a  tender  fledgeling, 
into  the  great  world  of  the  public  school,  and 

[II.] 


Education 


that  is  the  last  of  home.  His  holidays  arrive,  but 
there  is  no  more  weeping.  He  is  praftically  out 
of  his  parents'  lives,  and  the  sweet  influence  of 
a  good  mother  is  exercised  only  through  fairly 
regular  correspondence.  And  Tom  is  said  to  be 
getting  manly,  and  that  the  nonsense  has  nearly 
been  knocked  out  of  him.  He  has  been  bullied 
and  has  learned  to  bully ;  he  has  been  a  fag  and 
is  now  a  cock.  Perhaps  he  is  first  scholar,  if  not 
a  hero  of  the  cricket  or  foot-ball  field.  Then  off 
he  goes  to  college,  half  a  stranger  to  those  who 
love  him  best. 

This  is  fine  and  manly  perhaps,  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  sense,  but  does  it  not  seem  just  a  little 
brutal  ?  Are  we  well-to-do  Americans  prepared 
to  give  up  to  others,  however  exemplary,  the  con- 
dud:  of  our  children's  lives  ?  Granting  that  the 
American  private  boarding-school  is  a  delightful 
institution,  where  bullying  and  fags  and  cocks  are 
not  known,  can  it  ever  take  the  place  of  home,  or 
supply  the  stimulus  to  individual  life  which  is 
exercised  by  wise  parental  love  and  precept  ?  Of 
course,  it  is  easier,  in  a  certain  sense,  to  send  one's 
boy  to  a  seled:  boarding-school,  where  the  con- 
ditions are  known  to  be  highly  satisfactory.  It 
shifts  the  responsibility  on  to  other  shoulders, 

[  "3] 


T^he    Art    of  Living 

and  yet  leaves  one  who  Is  not  sensitive,  in  the 
pleasing  frame  of  mind  that  the  very  best  thing 
has  been  done  for  the  young  idea.  In  our  busy 
American  life — more  feverish  than  that  of  our 
English  kinsfolk  whose  institution  we  have  copied 
— many  doubtless  are  induced  to  seek  this  solu- 
tion of  a  perplexing  problem  by  the  consciousness 
of  their  own  lack  of  efficiency,  and  their  own  lack 
of  leisure  to  provide  a  continuous  home  influence 
superior  or  equal  to  what  can  be  supplied  by  head- 
masters and  their  assistants,  who  are  both  church- 
men and  athletes.  Many,  too,  especially  fathers, 
are  firm  believers  in  that  other  English  do6lrine, 
that  most  boys  need  to  have  the  nonsense  knocked 
out  of  them,  and  that  the  best  means  of  accom- 
plishing this  result  is  to  cut  them  loose  from  their 
mothers'  apron-strings. 

It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  in  this  connexion 
that  the  great  English  public  schools  are  a  na- 
tional cult.  That  is,  everybody  above  a  certain 
class  sends  his  sons  to  one  of  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  private  boarding-schools  on  this  side 
of  the  water,  fashioned  after  them,  have  thus  far 
attradled  the  patronage  of  a  very  small  element 
of  the  population.  It  is  their  misfortune,  rather 
than  their  fault,  that  they  are  chiefly  the  resort 
[  "4] 


Education 


of  the  sons  of  rich  or  fashionable  people,  and 
consequently  are  the  most  conspicuously  class 
schools  in  the  country.  Doubtless  the  earnest 
men  who  condud:  most  of  them  regret  that  this 
is  so,  but  it  is  one  of  the  faftors  of  the  case  which 
the  American  parent  with  sons  must  face  at  pre- 
sent. It  may  be  that  this  is  to  be  the  type  of 
school  which  is  to  become  predominant  here,  and 
that,  as  in  England,  the  nation  will  recognize  it 
as  a  national  force,  even  though  here,  as  there, 
only  the  sons  of  the  upper  classes  enjoy  its  ad- 
vantages. That  will  depend  partly  on  the  extent 
to  which  we  shall  decide,  as  a  society,  to  pro- 
mote further  class  education.  At  present  these 
schools  are  essentially  private  institutions.  They 
are  small ;  they  do  not,  like  our  American  col- 
leges, offer  scholarships,  and  thus  invite  the  at- 
tendance of  ambitious  students  without  means. 
Moreover,  they  are  almost  universally  conduded 
on  a  seftarian  basis,  or  with  a  seftarian  leaning, 
which  is  apt  to  proselytize,  at  least  indireftly. 

While  those  in  charge  of  them  indisputably 
strive  to  inculcate  every  virtue,  the  well-to-do 
American  father  must  remember  that  his  sons 
will  associate  intimately  there  with  many  boys 
whose  parents  belong  to  that  frivolous  class  which 

["5] 


The    Art    of  Living 

is  to-day  chiefly  absorbed  in  beautiful  establish- 
ments, elaborate  cookery,  and  the  wholly  mate- 
rial vanities  of  life,  and  are  out  of  sympathy  with, 
or  are  indiflFerent  to,  the  earnest  temper  and  views 
of  that  already  large  and  intelligent  portion  of 
the  community,  which  views  with  horror  the  de- 
velopment among  us  of  an  aristocracy  of  wealth, 
which  apes  and  is  striving  to  outdo  the  heartless 
inanities  of  the  Old  World.  He  must  remember 
that  a  taste  for  luxury  and  sensuous,  material 
aims,  even  though  they  be  held  in  check  by 
youthful  devotion  to  the  rites  of  the  church,  will 
prove  no  less  disastrous,  in  the  long  run,  to  man- 
hood and  patriotism,  than  the  lack  of  fresh  air 
or  a  famous  foot-ball  field. 

If,  however,  the  American  father  chooses  to 
keep  his  sons  at  home,  he  is  bound  to  do  all  he 
can  to  overcome  the  physical  disadvantages  of 
city  life.  Fresh  air  and  suitable  exercise  can  be 
obtained  in  the  suburbs  of  most  cities  by  a  little 
energy  and  co-operation  on  the  part  of  parents. 
As  an  instance,  in  one  or  two  of  our  leading  cities, 
clubs  of  twelve  to  fifteen  boys  are  sent  out  three 
or  four  afternoons  a  week  under  the  charge  of  an 
older  youth — usually  a  college  or  other  student 
— who,  without  interfering  with  their  liberty,  su- 
[ii6] 


Education 


pervises  their  sports,  and  sees  that  they  are  well 
occupied.  On  days  when  the  weather  is  unsuitable 
for  any  kind  of  game,  he  will  take  them  to  muse- 
ums, manufadories,  or  other  places  of  interest  in 
the  vicinity.  In  this  way  some  of  the  watchful- 
ness and  discipline  which  are  constantly  opera- 
tive at  a  boarding-school,  are  exercised  without 
injury  to  home  ties.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  un- 
less parents  are  vigilant  and  interest  themselves 
unremittingly  in  providing  necessary  physical 
advantages,  the  boys  in  a  crowded  city  are  likely 
to  be  less  healthy  and  vigorous  in  body,  and  per- 
haps in  mind,  than  those  educated  at  a  first-class 
boarding-school.  It  may  be,  as  our  cities  increase 
in  size,  and  suburbs  become  more  difficult  of  ac- 
cess, that  the  boarding-school  will  become  more 
generally  popular ;  but  there  is  reason  te  believe 
that,  before  it  is  recognized  as  a  national  institu- 
tion, sedarian  religion  will  have  ceased  to  control 
it,  and  it  will  be  less  imitative  of  England  in  its 
tone  and  social  attitude.  Until  then,  at  least,  many 
a  parent  will  prefer  to  keep  his  boys  at  home. 


[  117] 


Education . 
11. 


^^^UPPOSING  you  had  four  daugh- 
^T    Q  ^^  ters,  like  Mr.  Perkins,  what  would 

^^  JL^  ^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^^'^  them,  educationally 
^p^P^P  speaking  ? "  I  said  to  my  wife  Bar- 
bara, by  way  of  turning  my  attention  to  the 
other  sex. 

"You  mean  what  would  they  do  with  me? 
They  would  drive  me  into  my  grave,  I  think," 
she  answered.  "  Woman's  horizon  has  become 
so  enlarged  that  no  mother  can  tell  what  her 
next  daughter  may  not  wish  to  do.  I  understand, 
though,  that  you  are  referring  simply  to  schools. 
To  begin  with,  I  take  for  granted  you  will  agree 
that  American  parents,  who  insist  on  sending 
their  boys  to  a  public  school,  very  often  hesi- 
tate or  decline  point-blank  to  send  their  girls." 

"  Precisely.  And  we  are  forthwith  confronted 
by  the  question  whether  they  are  justified  in  so 
doing." 

Barbara  looked  meditative  for  a  moment,  then 

she  said :  "  I  am  quite  aware  there  is  no  logical 

reason  why  girls  should  not  be  treated  in  the  same 

way,  and  yet  as  a  matter  of  fad:  I  am  not  at  all 

[  ii8  ] 


Rducation 


sure,  patriotism  and  logic  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding, I  should  send  a  daughter  to  a  pub- 
lic school  unless  I  were  convinced,  from  personal 
examination,  that  she  would  have  neither  a  vul- 
gar teacher  nor  vulgar  associates.  Manners  mean 
so  much  to  a  woman,  and  by  manners  I  refer 
chiefly  to  those  nice  perceptions  of  everything 
which  stamp  a  lady,  and  which  you  can  no  more 
describe  than  you  can  describe  the  perfume  of 
the  violet.  The  objection  to  the  public  schools 
for  a  girl  is  that  the  unwritten  constitution  of  this 
country  declared  years  ago  that  every  woman  was 
a  born  lady,  and  that  manners  and  nice  percep- 
tions were  in  the  national  blood,  and  required  no 
cultivation  for  their  produdion.  Latterly,  a  good 
many  people  interested  in  educational  matters 
have  discovered  the  fallacy  of  this  point  of  view; 
so  that  when  the  name  of  a  woman  to  ad:  as  the 
head  of  a  college  or  other  first-class  institution 
for  girls  is  brought  forward  to-day,  the  first  ques- 
tion asked  is,  ^  Is  she  a  lady?'  Ten  years  ago 
mental  acquirements  would  have  been  regarded 
as  sufficient,  and  the  questioner  silenced  with  the 
severe  answer  that  every  American  woman  is  a 
lady.  The  public  school  authorities  are  still  harp- 
ing too  much  on  the  original  fallacy,  or  rather 

[119] 


The    Art    of  Living 

the  new  point  of  view  has  not  spread  sufficiently 
to  cause  the  average  American  school-teacher  to 
susped  that  her  manners  might  be  improved  and 
her  sensibilities  refined.  There,  that  sounds  like 
treason  to  the  principles  of  democracy,  yet  you 
know  I  am  at  heart  a  patriot." 

"And  yet  to  bring  up  boys  on  a  common  basis 
and  separate  the  girls  by  class  education  seems 
like  a  contradidion  of  terms/'  I  said. 

"I  am  confident — at  least  if  we  as  a  nation 
really  do  believe  in  obliterating  class  distindions 
— that  it  won't  be  long  before  those  who  control 
the  public  schools  recognize  more  universally  the 
value  of  manners,  and  of  the  other  traits  which 
distinguish  the  woman  of  breeding  from  the  wo- 
man who  has  none,"  said  Barbara.  "When  that 
time  comes  the  well-to-do  American  mother  will 
have  no  more  reason  for  not  sending  her  daugh- 
ters to  a  public  school  than  her  sons.  As  it  is, 
they  should  send  them  oftener  than  they  do." 

"Of  course,"  continued  Barbara,  presently, 
"the  best  private  schools  are  in  the  East,  and  a 
very  much  larger  percentage,  both  of  girls  and 
boys,  attends  the  public  schools  in  the  West  than 
in  the  East.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
comparatively  few  people  west  of  Chicago  do  not 

[  i^o  ] 


Education 


send  their  children  to  public  schools.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  are  boarding-schools  for  girls 
all  over  the  East  which  are  mainly  supported  by 
girls  from  the  West,  whose  mothers  wish  to  have 
them  finished.  They  go  to  the  public  schools  at 
home  until  they  are  thirteen  or  fourteen,  and  then 
are  packed  off  to  school  for  three  or  four  years  in 
order  to  teach  them  how  to  move,  and  wear  their 
hair,  and  spell,  and  control  their  voices — for  the 
proper  modulation  of  the  voice  has  at  last  been 
recognized  as  a  necessary  attribute  of  the  well- 
bred  American  woman.  As  for  the  Eastern  girl 
who  is  not  sent  to  the  public  school,  she  usually 
attends  a  private  day-school  in  her  native  city,  the 
resources  of  which  are  supplemented  by  special 
instruction  of  various  kinds,  in  order  to  produce 
the  same  finished  specimen.  But  it  is  n't  the  fin- 
ished specimen  who  is  really  interesting  from  the 
educational  point  of  view  to-day ;  that  is,  the  con- 
ventional, cosmopolitan,  finished  specimen  such 
as  is  turned  out  with  deportment  and  accomplish- 
ments from  the  hands  of  the  English  governess, 
the  French  Mother  Superior,  or  the  American 
private  school-mistress. 

"After  making  due  allowance  for  the  national 
point  of  view,  I  don't  see  very  much  diflference 

[121  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

in  principle  between  the  means  adopted  to  finish 
the  young  lady  of  society  here  and  elsewhere. 
There  are  thousands  of  daughters  of  well-to-do 
mothers  in  this  country  who  are  brought  up  on 
the  old  aristocratic  theory  that  a  woman  should 
study  moderately  hard  until  she  is  eighteen,  then 
look  as  pretty  as  she  can,  and  devote  herself  un- 
til she  is  married  to  having  what  is  called  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic  a  good  time.  To  be  sure,  in 
France  the  good  time  does  not  come  until  after 
marriage,  and  there  are  other  differences,  but  the 
well-bred  lady  of  social  graces  is  the  well-bred 
lady,  whether  it  be  in  London,  Paris,  Vienna,  or 
New  York,  and  a  ball-room  in  one  capital  is  es- 
sentially the  same  as  in  all  the  others,  unless  it 
be  that  over  here  the  very  young  people  are  al- 
lowed to  crowd  out  everybody  else.  There  are 
thousands  of  mothers  who  are  content  that  this 
should  be  the  limit  of  their  daughter's  experi- 
ence, a  reasonably  good  education  and  perfed: 
manners,  four  years  of  whirl,  and  then  a  husband, 
or  no  husband  and  a  conservative  afternoon  tea- 
drinking  spinsterhood — and  they  are  thankful 
on  the  whole  when  their  girls  put  their  necks 
meekly  beneath  the  yoke  of  convention  and  do 
as  past  generations  of  women  all  over  the  civi- 

[    122    ] 


Education 


lized  world  have  done.  For  the  reign  of  the  un- 
conventional society  young  woman  is  over.  She 
shocks  now  her  own  countrywoman  even  more 
than  foreigners ;  and  though,  like  the  buffalo,  she 
is  still  extant,  she  is  disappearing  even  more  rap- 
idly than  that  illustrious  quadruped." 

"Are  you  not  wandering  slightly  from  the 
topic?"  I  ventured  to  inquire. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Barbara.  "I  was  stating 
merely  that  the  Old-World,  New-World  young 
lady,  with  all  her  originality  and  piquancy,  how- 
ever charming,  and  however  delightfully  inevita- 
ble she  may  be,  is  not  interesting  from  the  edu- 
cational point  of  view.  Or  rather  I  will  put  it  in 
this  way:  the  thoughtful,  well-to-do  American 
mother  is  wondering  hard  whether  she  has  a 
right  to  be  content  with  the  ancient  programme 
for  her  daughters,  and  is  watching  with  eager  in- 
terest the  experiments  which  some  of  her  neigh- 
bors are  trying  with  theirs.  We  cannot  claim  as 
an  exclusive  national  invention  collegiate  edu- 
cation for  women,  and  there  's  no  doubt  that  my 
sex  in  England  is  no  less  completely  on  the  war- 
path than  the  female  world  here;  but  is  there  a 
question  that  the  peculiar  qualities  of  American 
womanhood  are  largely  responsible  for  the  awak- 
[  1^3  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ening  wherever  it  has  taken  place  ?  My  dear,  you 
asked  me  just  now  what  a  man  like  Mr.  Perkins 
should  do  with  his  four  daughters.  Probably 
Mrs.  Perkins  is  trying  to  make  up  her  mind 
whether  she  ought  to  send  them  to  college.  Very 
likely  she  is  arguing  with  Mr.  Perkins  as  to 
whether,  all  things  considered,  it  would  n't  be 
advisable  to  have  one  or  two  of  them  study  a 
profession,  or  learn  to  do  something  bread-win- 
ning, so  that  in  case  he,  poor  man — for  he  does 
look  overworked — should  not  succeed  in  leav- 
ing them  the  five  thousand  dollars  a  year  he 
hopes,  they  need  not  swell  the  category  of  the 
decayed  gentlewoman  of  the  day.  I  dare  say  they 
discuss  the  subjeft  assiduously,  in  spite  of  the 
views  Mr.  Perkins  has  expressed  to  you  regard- 
ing the  sacredness  of  unemployed  feminine  gen- 
tility; for  it  costs  so  much  to  live  that  he  can't 
lay  up  a  great  deal,  and  there  are  certainly  strong 
arguments  in  favor  of  giving  such  girls  the  op- 
portunity to  make  the  most  of  themselves,  or 
at  least  to  look  at  life  from  the  self-supporting 
point  of  view.  At  first,  of  course,  the  students 
at  the  colleges  for  women  were  chiefly  girls  who 
hoped  to  utilize,  as  workers  in  various  lines,  the 
higher  knowledge  they  acquired  there;  but  every 
[  iH  ] 


Education 


year  sees  more  and  more  girls,  who  exped:  to  be 
married  sooner  or  later — the  daughters  of  law- 
yers, physicians,  merchants — apply  for  admis- 
sion, on  the  theory  that  what  is  requisite  for  a 
man  is  none  too  good  for  them;  and  it  is  the  ex- 
ample of  these  girls  which  is  agitating  the  seren- 
ity of  so  many  mothers,  and  suggesting  to  so 
many  daughters  the  idea  of  doing  likewise.  Even 
the  ranks  of  the  most  fashionable  are  being  in- 
vaded, though  undeniably  it  is  still  the  fashion 
to  stay  at  home,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
it  is  only  the  lack  of  the  seal  of  fashion  that  re- 
strains many  conservative  people,  like  the  Per- 
kinses, from  educating  their  daughters  as  though 
they  probably  would  not  be  married,  instead  of 
as  though  they  were  almost  certain  to  be." 

"  You  may  remember  that  Perkins  assured  me 
not  long  ago,  that  marriage  did  not  run  in  the 
Perkins  female  line,"  said  I. 

"  All  the  more  reason,  then,  that  his  girls  should 
be  encouraged  to  equip  themselves  thoroughly  in 
some  diredion  or  other,  instead  of  waiting  dis- 
consolately to  be  chosen  in  marriage,  keeping  up 
their  courage  as  the  years  slip  away,  with  a  few 
cold  drops  of  Associated  Charity.  Of  course  the 
majority  of  us  will  continue   to   be  wives  and 

[  1^5] 


The    Art    of  Living 

mothers — there  is  nothing  equal  to  that  when 
it  is  a  success — but  will  not  marriage  become 
still  more  desirable  if  the  choicest  girls  are  edu- 
cated to  be  the  intelleftual  companions  of  men, 
and  taught  to  familiarize  themselves  with  the  real 
conditions  of  life,  instead  of  being  limited  to  the 
rose  garden  of  a  harem,  over  the  hedges  of  which 
they  are  expeded  only  to  peep  at  the  busy  world 
— the  world  of  men,  the  world  of  adion  and  toil 
and  struggle  and  sin — the  world  into  which 
their  sons  are  graduated  when  cut  loose  from  the 
maternal  apron-strings  ?  We  intend  to  learn 
what  to  teach  our  sons,  so  that  we  may  no  longer 
be  silenced  with  the  plea  that  women  do  not 
know,  and  be  put  oiF  with  a  secretive  conjugal 
smile.  And  as  for  the  girls  who  do  not  marry, 
the  world  is  open  to  them — the  world  of  art  and 
song  and  charity  and  healing  and  brave  endea- 
vor in  a  hundred  fields.  Become  just  like  men  ? 
Never.  If  there  is  one  thing  which  the  educated 
woman  of  the  present  is  seeking  to  preserve  and 
foster,  it  is  the  subtle  delicacy  of  nature,  it  is  the 
engaging  charm  of  womanhood  which  distin- 
guishes us  from  men.  Who  are  the  pupils  at  the 
colleges  for  women  to-day  ?  The  dowdy,  sexless, 
unattradive,  masculine-minded  beings  who  have 
[  1^6] 


Education 


served  to  typify  for  nine  men  out  of  ten  the 
crowning  joke  of  the  age — the  emancipation  of 
women  ?  No;  but  lovely,  graceful,  sympathetic, 
earnest,  pure-minded  girls  in  the  flower  of  at- 
tractive maidenhood.  And  that  is  why  the  well- 
to-do  American  mother  is  asking  herself  whether 
she  would  be  doing  the  best  thing  for  her  daugh- 
ter if  she  were  to  encourage  her  to  become  merely 
a  New-World,  Old-World  young  lady  of  the  an- 
cient order  of  things.  For  centuries  the  women 
of  civilization  have  worshipped  chastity,  suffer- 
ing resignation  and  elegance  as  the  ideals  of  femi- 
ninity ;  now  we  mean  to  be  intelligent  besides,  or 
at  least  as  nearly  so  as  possible." 

"  In  truth  a  philippic,  Barbara,"  I  said.  "  It 
would  seem  as  though  Mrs.  Grundy  would  not 
be  able  to  hold  out  much  longer.  Will  you  tell 
me,  by  the  way,  what  you  women  intend  to  do 
after  you  are  fully  emancipated  ?  " 

"  One  thing  at  a  time,"  she  answered.  "  We 
have  been  talking  of  education,  and  I  have  simply 
been  suggesting  that  no  conscientious  mother  can 
afford  to  ignore  or  pass  by  with  scorn  the  claims 
of  higher  education  for  girls — experimental  and 
faulty  as  many  of  the  present  methods  to  attain 
it  doubtless  are.  As  to  what  women  are  going  to 

[  127  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

do  when  our  preliminary  perplexities  are  solved 
and  our  sails  are  set  before  a  favorable  wind,  I 
have  my  ideas  on  that  score  also,  and  some  day 
I  will  discuss  them  with  you.  But  just  now  I 
should  like  you  to  answer  me  a  question.  What 
are  the  best  occupations  for  sons  to  follow  when 
they  have  left  school  or  college  ?  " 

Pertinent  and  interesting  as  was  this  inquiry 
of  Barbara's,  I  felt  the  necessity  of  drawing  a 
long  breath  before  I  answered  it. 


C  1^8  ] 


Occupation, 
I. 


^^I^I^HE  American  young  man,  in  the 

Tl^  selection  of  a  vocation,  is  prac- 
^^  tically  cut  off  from  two  callings 
Ml  which  are  dear  to  his  contempora- 
JAxlJ^ljLi  ries  in  other  civilized  countries 
— the  Army  and  the  Navy.  The  possibility  of  war, 
with  all  its  horrors  and  its  opportunities  for  per- 
sonal renown,  is  always  looming  up  before  the 
English,  French,  German,  or  Russian  youth, 
who  is  well  content  to  live  a  life  of  gilded  martial 
inactivity  in  the  hope  of  sooner  or  later  winning 
the  cross  for  conspicuous  service,  if  he  escapes  a 
soldier's  grave.  We  have  endured  one  war,  and 
we  profoundly  hope  never  to  undergo  another. 
Those  of  us  who  are  ethically  opposed  to  the 
slaughter  of  thousands  of  human  beings  in  a 
single  day  by  cannon,  feel  that  we  have  geogra- 
phy on  our  side.  Even  the  bloodthirsty  are  forced 
to  acknowledge  that  the  prospeds  here  for  a  gen- 
uine contest  of  any  kind  are  not  favorable.  Con- 
sequently, the  ardor  of  the  son  and  heir,  who 
would  like  to  be  a  great  soldier  or  a  sea  captain, 
is  very  apt  to  be  cooled  by  the  representation 
[  129  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

that  his  days  would  be  spent  in  watching  Indians 
or  cattle  thieves  on  the  Western  plains,  or  in 
cruising  uneventfully  in  the  Mediterranean  or 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  At  all  events  our  standing, 
or,  more  accurately  speaking,  sitting  Army,  and 
our  Navy  are  so  small,  that  the  demand  for  gen- 
erals and  captains  is  very  limited.  Therefore, 
though  we  commend  to  our  sons  the  prowess  of 
Caesar,  Napoleon,  Nelson,  Von  Moltke,  and 
Grant,  we  are  able  to  demonstrate  to  them, 
even  without  recourse  to  modern  ethical  ar- 
guments, that  the  opportunities  for  distindion 
on  this  side  of  the  water  are  likely  to  be  very 
meagre. 

Also,  we  Americans,  unlike  English  parents, 
hesitate  to  hold  out  as  offerings  to  the  Church  a 
younger  son  in  every  large  family.  We  have  no 
national  Church  ;  moreover,  the  calling  of  a  cler- 
gyman in  this  country  lacks  the  social  piftur- 
esqueness  which  goes  far,  or  did  go  far,  to  recon- 
cile the  British  younger  son  to  accept  the  living 
which  fell  to  his  lot  through  family  influence. 
Then  again,  would  the  American  mother,  like 
the  conventional  mother  of  the  older  civiliza- 
tions, as  represented  in  biography  and  fiftion, 
if  asked  which  of  all  vocations  she  would  prefer 

[  130  ] 


Occupation 


to  have  her  son  adopt,  reply  promptly  and  fer- 
vidly, "  the  ministry  ?'' 

I  put  this  question  to  my  wife  by  way  of  ob- 
taining an  answer.  She  refleded  a  moment,  then 
she  said,  "  If  one  of  my  boys  really  felt  called 
to  be  a  clergyman,  I  should  be  a  very  happy 
woman ;  but  I  would  n't  on  any  account  have 
one  of  them  enter  the  ministry  unless  he  did." 
This  reply  seems  to  me  to  express  not  merely 
the  attitude  of  the  American  mother,  but  also 
the  point  of  view  from  which  the  American 
young  man  of  to-day  is  apt  to  look  at  the  ques- 
tion. He  no  longer  regards  the  ministry  as  a  pro- 
fession which  he  is  free  to  prefer,  merely  because 
he  needs  to  earn  his  daily  bread;  and  he  under- 
stands, when  he  becomes  a  clergyman,  that  luke- 
warm or  merely  conventional  service  will  be  ut- 
terly worthless  in  a  community  which  is  thirsty 
for  inspirational  suggestion,  but  which  is  soul- 
sick  of  cant  and  the  perfervid  reiteration  of  out- 
worn delusions.  The  consciousness  that  he  has 
no  closer  insight  into  the  mysteries  of  the  uni- 
verse than  his  fellow-men,  and  the  fear  that  he 
may  be  able  to  solace  their  doubts  only  by  skil- 
ful concealment  of  his  own,  is  tending,  here  and 
all  over  the  civilized  world,  to  deter  many  a 

[  131  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

young  man  from  embracing  that  profession, 
which  once  seemed  to  offer  a  safe  and  legitimate 
niche  for  any  pious  youth  who  was  uncertain 
what  he  wished  to  do  for  a  living.  Happy  he  who 
feels  so  closely  in  touch  with  the  infinite  that  he 
is  certain  of  his  mission  to  his  brother-man  !  But 
is  any  one  more  out  of  place  than  the  priest  who 
seems  to  know  no  more  than  we  do  of  what  we 
desire  to  know  most  ?  We  demand  that  a  poet 
should  be  heaven-born;  why  should  we  not  re- 
quire equivalent  evidence  of  fitness  from  our 
spiritual  advisers  ? 

And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  con- 
viftion  of  fitness  or  mission  exists,  what  calling 
is  there  which  offers  to-day  more  opportunities 
for  usefulness  than  the  ministry  ?  The  growing 
tendency  of  the  Church  is  toward  wider  issues 
and  a  broader  scope.  Clergymen  are  now  encour- 
aged and  expefted  to  aid  in  the  solution  of  pro- 
blems of  living  no  less  than  those  of  dying,  and  to 
lead  in  the  discussion  of  matters  regarding  which 
they  could  not  have  ventured  to  express  opin- 
ions fifty  years  ago  without  exposing  themselves 
to  the  charge  of  being  meddlesome  or  unclerical. 
The  whole  field  of  pradlical  charity,  economics, 
hygiene,  and  the  relations  of  human  beings  to 

[   132  ] 


Occupation 


each  other  on  this  earth,  are  fast  becoming 
the  legitimate  domain  of  the  Church,  and 
the  general  interest  in  this  new  phase  of  use- 
fulness is  serving  to  convince  many  of  the 
clergy  themselves  that  the  existence  of  so 
many  creeds,  differing  but  slightly  and  unim- 
portantly from  one  another,  is  a  waste  of  vital 
force  and  machinery.  In  this  age  of  trusts,  a 
trust  of  all  religious  denominations  for  the 
common  good  of  humanity  would  be  a  mono- 
poly which  could  pay  large  dividends  without 
fear  of  hostile  legislation. 

In  this  matter  of  the  choice  of  a  vocation,  the 
case  of  the  ambitious,  promising  young  man  is 
the  one  which  commends  itself  most  to  our  sym- 
pathies ;  and  next  to  it  stands  that  of  the  general 
utility  man — the  youth  who  has  no  definite 
tastes  or  talents,  and  who  seled:s  his  life  occu- 
pation from  considerations  other  than  a  con- 
sciousness of  fitness  or  of  natural  inclination. 
There  are  here,  as  elsewhere,  born  merchants, 
lawyers,  doctors,  clergymen,  architefts,  engineers, 
inventors,  and  poets,  who  promptly  follow  their 
natural  bents  without  suggestion  and  in  the  teeth 
of  difficulties.  But  the  promising  young  man  in 
search  of  a  brilliant  career,  and  the  general  utility 

[   ^ZZ  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

man,  are  perhaps  the  best  exponents  of  a  nation's 
temper  and  inclination. 

In  every  civilization  many  promising  youths 
and  the  general  run  of  utility  men  are  apt  to  turn 
to  business,  for  trade  seems  to  offer  the  largest 
return  in  the  way  of  money  with  the  least  amount 
of  special  knowledge.  In  this  new  country  of  ours 
the  number  of  young  men  who  have  seleded  a 
business  career  during  the  last  fifty  years,  from 
personal  inclination,  has  been  very  much  greater 
than  elsewhere,  and  the  tone  and  temper  of  the 
community  has  swept  the  general  utility  man 
into  mere  money  making  almost  as  a  matter  of 
course.  The  reasons  for  this  up  to  this  time  have 
been  obvious:  The  resources  and  industries  of  a 
vast  and  comparatively  sparsely  settled  continent 
have  been  developed  in  the  last  fifty  years,  and 
the  great  prizes  in  the  shape  of  large  fortunes  re- 
sulting from  the  process  have  naturally  capti- 
vated the  imagination  of  ambitious  youth.  We 
have  unjustly  been  styled  a  nation  of  shopkeep- 
ers; but  it  may  in  all  fairness  be  alleged  that,  un- 
til the  last  fifteen  years,  we  have  been  under  the 
spell  of  the  commercial  and  industrial  spirit,  and 
that  the  intelledual  faculties  of  the  nation  have 
been  mainly  absorbed  in  the  introduftion  and 

[134] 


Occupation 


maintenance  of  railroads  and  fa6lories,in  the  rais- 
ing and  marketing  of  grain,  in  the  development 
of  real  estate  enterprises,  and  in  trading  in  the 
commodities  or  securities  which  these  various 
undertakings  have  produced. 

The  resources  of  the  country  are  by  no  means 
exhausted;  there  are  doubtless  more  mines  to 
open  which  will  make  their  owners  superbly  rich ; 
new  discoveries  in  the  mechanical  or  eleftrical 
field  will  afford  fresh  opportunities  to  discerning 
men  of  means;  and  individual  or  combined  capi- 
tal will  continue  to  reap  the  reward  of  both  le- 
gitimate and  over-reaching  commercial  acumen. 
But  it  would  seem  as  though  the  day  of  enor- 
mous fortunes,  for  men  of  average  brains  and 
luck,  in  this  country  were  nearly  over,  and  that 
the  great  pecuniary  prizes  of  the  business  world 
would  henceforth  be  gleaned  only  by  extraor- 
dinary or  exceptional  individuals.  The  country 
is  no  longer  sparsely  settled;  fierce  competition 
speedily  cuts  the  abnormal  profit  out  of  new  en- 
terprises which  are  not  proteded  by  a  patent; 
and  in  order  to  be  conspicuously  successful  in 
any  branch  of  trade,  one  will  have  more  and  more 
need  of  unusual  ability  and  untiring  application. 

In  other  words,  though  ours  is  still  a  new 

[  135] 


The    Art    of  Living 

country,  it  will  not  be  very  long  before  the  op- 
portunities and  conditions  of  a  business  life  re- 
semble closely  those  which  confront  young  men 
elsewhere.  As  in  every  civilized  country,  trade 
in  some  form  will  necessarily  engage  the  atten- 
tion of  a  large  portion  of  the  population.  From 
physical  causes,  a  vast  majority  of  the  citizens 
of  the  United  States  must  continue  to  derive 
their  support  from  agriculture  and  the  callings 
which  large  crops  of  cereals,  cotton,  and  sugar 
make  occasion  for.  Consequently  business  will 
always  furnish  occupation  for  a  vast  army  of 
young  men  in  every  generation,  and  few  suc- 
cesses will  seem  more  enviable  than  those  of  the 
powerful  and  scrupulous  banker,  or  the  broad- 
minded  and  capable  railroad  president.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  will  the  well-to-do  American 
father  and  mother,  eager  to  see  their  promising 
sons  make  the  most  of  themselves,  continue  to 
advise  them  to  go  into  business  in  preference  to 
other  callings  ?  And  will  the  general  utility  man 
still  be  encouraged  to  regard  some  form  of  trade 
as  the  most  promising  outlook,  for  one  who 
does  not  know  what  he  wishes  to  do,  to  adopt  ? 
He  who  hopes  to  become  a  great  banker  or 
illustrious  railway  man,  must  remember  that  the 

[  136] 


Occupation 


streets  of  all  our  large  cities  teem  with  young 
men  whose  breasts  harbor  similar  ambitions. 

Doubtless,  it  was  the  expeftation  of  our  fore- 
fathers that  our  American  civilization  would  add 
new  occupations  to  the  callings  inherited  from 
the  old  world,  which  would  be  alluring  both  to 
the  promising  young  man  and  the  youth  without 
predileftions,  and  no  less  valuable  to  society  and 
elevating  to  the  individual  than  the  best  of  those 
by  which  men  have  earned  their  daily  bread  since 
civilization  first  was.  As  a  matter  of  fad,  we 
Americans  have  added  just  one,  that  of  the  mod- 
ern stock-broker.  To  be  sure,  I  am  not  includ- 
ing the  ranchman.  It  did  seem  at  one  time  as 
though  we  were  going  to  add  another  in  him — 
a  sort  of  gentleman  shepherd.  But  be  it  that  the 
cattle  have  become  too  scarce  or  too  numerous, 
be  it  that  the  demon  of  competition  has  planted 
his  hoofs  on  the  farthest  prairie,  one  by  one  the 
brave  youths  who  went  West  in  search  of  for- 
tune, have  returned  East  for  the  last  time,  and 
abandoned  the  field  to  the  cowboys  and  the  na- 
tive settler.  The  pioneers  in  this  form  of  occu- 
pation made  snug  fortunes,  but  after  them  came 
a  deluge  of  promising  or  unpromising  youths 
who  branded  every  animal  within  a  radius  of 

[  137  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

hundreds  of  miles  with  a  letter  of  the  alphabet. 
Their  only  living  monument  is  the  polo  pony. 
Our  single  and  signal  contribution  to  the  call- 
ings of  the  world  has  been  the  apotheosis  of  the 
stock-broker.  For  the  last  twenty-five  years,  the 
well-to-do  father  and  mother  and  their  sons,  in 
our  large  cities,  have  been  under  the  spell  of  a 
craze  for  the  brokerage  business.  The  conscious- 
ness that  the  refinements  of  modern  living  can- 
not adequately  be  supplied  in  a  large  city  to  a 
family  whose  income  does  not  approximate  ten 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  is  a  cogent  argument  in 
favor  of  trying  to  grow  rich  rapidly,  and  both 
the  promising  young  man  and  the  general  utility 
man  welcomed  the  new  calling  with  open  arms. 
Impelled  by  the  notion  that  here  was  a  vocation 
which  required  no  special  knowledge  or  attain- 
ments, and  very  little  capital,  which  was  plea- 
sant, gentlemanly, and  not  unduly  confining,  and 
which  promised  large  returns  almost  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  young  men  became  brokers — chiefly  stock- 
brokers, but  also  cotton-brokers,  note-brokers, 
real  -  estate  -brokers,  insurance  -  brokers,  and 
brokers  in  nearly  everything.  The  field  was 
undoubtedly  a  rich  one  for  those  who  first  en- 

[  138  ] 


Occupation 


tered  it.  There  was  a  need  for  the  broker,  and 
he  was  speedily  recognized  as  a  valuable  addition 
to  the  machinery  of  trade.  Many  huge  fortunes 
were  made,  and  we  have  learned  to  associate  the 
word  broker  with  the  possession  of  large  means, 
an  imposing  house  on  a  fashionable  street,  and 
diverse  docked  and  stylish  horses. 

Of  course,  the  king  of  all  brokers  has  been  the 
stock-broker,  for  to  him  was  given  the  oppor- 
tunity to  buy  and  sell  securities  on  his  own  ac- 
count, though  he  held  himself  out  to  his  cus- 
tomers as  merely  a  poor  thing  who  worked  for 
a  commission.  No  wonder  that  the  young  man, 
just  out  of  college,  listened  open-mouthed  to  the 
tales  of  how  many  thousands  of  dollars  a  year 
so  and  so,  who  had  been  graduated  only  five 
years  before,  was  making,  and  resolved  to  try  his 
luck  with  the  same  Aladdin's  lamp.  Nor  was  it 
strange  that  the  sight  of  men  scarcely  out  of 
their  teens,  driving  down  town  in  fur  coats,  in 
their  own  equipages,  with  the  benison  of  suc- 
cessful capitalists  in  their  salutations,  settled  the 
question  of  choice  for  the  youth  who  was  wa- 
vering or  did  not  know  what  he  wished  to  do. 

It  is  scarcely  an  extreme  statement  that  the  so- 
called  aristocracy  of  our  principal  cities  to-day  is 

[  ^^9  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

largely  made  up  of  men  who  are,  or  once  were, 
stock-brokers,  or  who  have  made  their  millions 
by  some  of  the  forms  of  gambling  which  our 
easy-going  euphemism  styles  modern  commer- 
cial aggressiveness.  Certainly,  a  very  considera- 
ble number  of  our  most  splendid  private  resi- 
dences have  been  built  out  of  the  proceeds  of 
successful  ventures  in  the  stock  market,  or  the 
wheat  pit,  or  by  some  other  purely  speculative 
operations.  Many  stars  have  shone  brilliantly  for 
a  season,  and  then  plunged  precipitately  from  the 
zenith  to  the  horizon;  and  much  has  been  wisely 
said  as  to  the  dangers  of  speculation;  but  the  fad 
remains  that  a  great  many  vast  fortunes  owe  their 
existence  to  the  broker's  office;  fortunes  which 
have  been  salted  down,  as  the  phrase  is,  and  now 
furnish  support  and  titillation  for  a  leisurely, 
green  old  age,  or  enable  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  original  maker  to  live  in  luxury. 

Whatever  the  American  mother  may  feel  as  to 
her  son  becoming  a  clergyman,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  many  a  mother  to-day  would  say  "God 
grant  that  no  son  of  mine  become  a  stock- 
broker." I  know  stock-brokers — many  indeed 
— who  are  whole-souled,  noble-natured  men, 
free  from  undue  worldliness,  and  with  refined 
[   140  ] 


Occupation 


instinds.  But  the  stock-broker,  as  he  exists  in 
the  every-day  life  of  our  community,  typifies 
signally  the  gambler's  yearning  to  gain  wealth 
by  short  cuts,  and  the  monomania  which  regards 
as  pitiable  those  who  do  not  possess  and  display 
the  gewgaws  of  feverish,  fashionable  materialism. 
There  are  stock-brokers  in  all  the  great  capitals 
of  the  world,  but  nowhere  has  the  vocation  swal- 
lowed up  the  sons  of  the  best  people  to  the  ex- 
tent that  it  has  done  here  during  the  last  thirty 
years.  And  yet,  apart  from  the  opportunity  it 
affords  to  grow  rich  rapidly,  what  one  good  rea- 
son is  there  why  a  promising  young  man  should 
decide  to  buy  and  sell  stocks  for  a  living  ?  In- 
deed, not  merely  decide,  but  seled:,  that  occupa- 
tion as  the  most  desirable  calling  open  to  him  ? 
Does  it  tend  either  to  ennoble  the  nature  or  en- 
rich the  mental  faculties  ?  It  is  one  of  the  formal 
occupations  made  necessary  by  the  exigencies  of 
the  business  world,  and  as  such  is  legitimate  and 
may  be  highly  respedable;  but  surely  it  does 
not,  from  the  nature  of  the  services  required, 
deserve  to  rank  high;  and  really  there  would 
seem  to  be  almost  as  much  occasion  for  confer- 
ring the  accolade  of  social  distindion  on  a  dealer 
in  excellent  fish  as  on  a  successful  stock-broker. 
[hi] 


The    Art    of  Living 

However,  alas  !  it  is  easy  enough  to  assign  the 
reason  why  the  business  has  been  so  popular.  It 
appears  that,  even  under  the  flag  of  our  aspiring 
nationality,  human  nature  is  still  so  weak  that 
the  opportunity  to  grow  rich  quickly,  when  pre- 
sented, is  apt  to  over-ride  all  noble  considerations. 
Foreign  censors  have  ventured  not  infrequently 
to  declare  that  there  was  never  yet  a  race  so  hun- 
gry for  money  as  we  free-born  Americans;  and 
not  even  the  pious  ejaculation  of  one  of  our 
United  States  Senators,  "What  have  we  to  do 
with  abroad  ?"  is  conclusive  proof  that  the  accu- 
sation is  not  well  founded.  In  fadl  there  seems 
to  be  ample  proof  that  we,  who  sneered  so  aus- 
terely at  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  and  the  aris- 
tocracies of  the  Old  World,  and  made  Fourth 
of  July  protestations  of  poverty  and  chastity, 
have  fallen  down  and  worshipped  the  golden  calf 
merely  because  it  was  made  of  gold.  Because  it 
seemed  to  be  easier  to  make  money  as  stock- 
brokers than  in  any  other  way,  men  have  has- 
tened to  become  stock-brokers.  To  be  sure  it 
may  be  answered  that  this  is  only  human  nature 
and  the  way  of  the  world.  True,  perhaps;  except 
that  we  started  on  the  assumption  that  we  were 
going  to  improve  on  the  rest  of  the  world,  and 
[  H2  ] 


I 


Occupation 


that  its  human  nature  was  not  to  be  our  human 
nature.  Would  not  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain 
be  preferable  to  an  aristocracy  of  stock-brokers  ? 
At  all  events,  the  law  of  supply  and  demand 
is  beginning  to  redeem  the  situation,  and,  if  not 
to  restore  our  moral  credit,  at  least  to  save  the  ris- 
ing generation  from  falling  into  the  same  slough. 
The  stock-broker  industry  has  been  overstocked, 
and  the  late  young  capitalists  in  fur  overcoats, 
with  benediftory  manners,  wear  anxious  counte- 
nances under  the  stress  of  that  Old  World  de- 
mon, excessive  competition.  Youth  can  no  longer 
wake  up  in  the  morning  and  find  itself  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  rattling  business  justifying  a  steam- 
yacht  and  a  four-in-hand.  The  good  old  days 
have  gone  forever,  and  there  is  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  where  of  late  there  was  joy 
and  much  accumulation.  There  is  not  business 
enough  for  all  the  promising  young  men  who 
are  stock-brokers  already,  and  the  youth  of  pro- 
mise must  turn  elsewhere. 


Ch3] 


Occupation, 
II. 


^^^^^^UT  though  the  occupation  of  broker 

#x\  ^^^  has  become  less  tempting,  the  pro- 
G^  j?fc  ^^  mising  youth  has  not  ceased  to  look 
^^^^^^  askance  at  any  calling  which  does  not 
seem  to  foreshadow  a  fortune  in  a  short  time. 
He  is  only  just  beginning  to  appreciate  that  we 
are  getting  down  to  hard  pan,  so  to  speak,  and 
are  nearly  on  a  level,  as  regards  the  hardships  of 
individual  progress,  with  our  old  friends  the  effete 
civilizations.  He  finds  it  difficult  to  rid  himself 
of  the  "  Arabian  Nights' ''  notion  that  he  has 
merely  to  clap  his  hands  to  change  ten  dollars 
into  a  thousand  in  a  single  year,  and  to  trans- 
form his  bachelor  apartments  into  a  palace  beau- 
tiful, with  a  wife,  yacht,  and  horses,  before  he  is 
thirty-five.  He  shrinks  from  the  idea  of  being 
obliged  to  take  seriously  into  account  anything 
less  than  a  hundred-dollar  bill,  and  of  earning  a 
livelihood  by  slow  yet  persistent  acceptance  of 
tens  and  fives.  His  present  ruling  ambition  is  to 
be  a  promoter;  that  is,  to  be  an  organizer  of 
schemes,  and  to  let  others  do  the  real  work  and 
attend  to  the  disgusting  details.  There  are  a  great 
[  H4  ] 


I 


Occupation 


many  gentry  of  this  kind  in  the  field  just  at  pre- 
sent. Among  them  is,  or  rather  was,  Lewis  Pell, 
as  I  will  call  him  for  the  occasion.  I  don't  know 
exacflly  what  he  is  doing  now.  But  he  was,  until 
lately,  a  promoter. 

A  handsome  fellow  was  Lewis  Pell.  Tall,  gen- 
tlemanly, and  athletic-looking,  with  a  gracious, 
imposing  presence  and  manner,  which  made  his 
rather  commonplace  conversation  seem  almost 
wisdom.  He  went  into  a  broker's  office  after  leav- 
ing college,  like  many  other  promising  young 
men  of  his  time,  but  he  was  clever  enough  either 
to  realize  that  he  was  a  little  late,  or  that  the  pro- 
moter business  offered  a  more  promising  scope 
for  his  genius,  for  he  soon  disappeared  from  the 
purlieus  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  the  next 
thing  we  heard  of  him  was  as  the  tenant  of  an 
exceedingly  elaborate  set  of  offices  on  the  third 
floor  of  a  most  expensive  modern  monster  build- 
ing. Shortly  after  I  read  in  the  financial  columns 
of  the  daily  press  that  Mr.  Lewis  Pell  had  sold 
to  a  syndicate  of  bankers  the  first  mortgage  and 
the  debenture  bonds  of  the  Light  and  Power 
Tradion  Company,  an  eledrical  corporation  or- 
ganized under  the  laws  of  the  State  of  New  Jer- 
sey. Thirty  days  later  I  saw  again  that  he  had 

[  145] 


The    Art    of  Living 

sailed  for  Europe  in  order  to  interest  London 
capital  in  a  large  enterprise,  the  nature  of  which 
was  still  withheld  from  the  public. 

During  the  next  two  or  three  years  I  ran  across 
Pell  on  several  occasions.  He  seemed  always  to 
be  living  at  the  highest  pressure,  but  the  bril- 
liancy of  his  career  had  not  impaired  his  good 
manners  or  attradiveness.  I  refer  to  his  career 
as  brilliant  at  this  time  because  both  his  opera- 
tions and  the  consequent  style  of  living  which 
he  pursued,  as  described  by  him  on  two  different 
evenings  when  I  dined  with  him,  seemed  to  me  in 
my  capacity  of  ordinary  citizen  to  savor  of  the 
marvellous,  if  not  the  supernatural.  He  frankly 
gave  me  to  understand  that  it  seemed  to  him  a 
waste  of  time  for  an  ambitious  man  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  details,  and  that  his  business  was  to  origi- 
nate vast  undertakings,  made  possible  only  by 
large  combinations  of  corporate  or  private  capital. 
The  word  combination,  which  was  frequently  on 
his  lips,  seemed  to  be  the  corner-stone  of  his  sys- 
tem. I  gathered  that  the  part  which  he  sought  to 
play  in  the  battle  of  life  was  to  breathe  the  breath, 
or  the  apparent  breath,  of  existence  into  huge 
schemes,  and  after  having  given  them  a  quick 
but  comprehensive  squeeze  or  two  for  his  own 

[  146] 


Occupation 


pecuniary  benefit,  to  hand  them  over  to  syndi- 
cates, or  other  aggregations  of  capitalists,  for  the 
benefit  of  whom  they  might  concern.  He  con- 
fided to  me  that  he  employed  eleven  typewriters ; 
that  he  had  visited  London  seven,  and  Paris  three 
times,  in  the  last  three  years,  on  flying  trips  to 
accomplish  brilliant  deals  ;  that  though  his  head- 
quarters were  in  New  York,  scarcely  a  week  passed 
in  which  he  was  not  obliged  to  run  over  to  Chi- 
cago, Boston,  Washington,  Denver,  Duluth,  or 
Cincinnati,  as  the  case  might  be.  Without  being 
boastful  as  to  his  profits,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
acknowledge  to  me  that  if  he  should  do  as  well 
in  the  next  three  years  as  in  the  last,  he  would 
be  able  to  retire  from  business  with  a  million 
or  so. 

Apart  from  this  confession,  his  personal  ex- 
travagance left  no  room  for  doubt  that  he  must 
be  very  rich.  Champagne  flowed  for  him  as  Cro- 
ton  or  Cochituate  for  most  of  us,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent from  his  language  that  the  hiring  of  special 
trains  from  time  to  time  was  a  rather  less  serious 
matter  than  it  would  be  for  the  ordinary  citizen 
to  take  a  cab.  The  account  that  he  gave  of  three 
separate  entertainments  he  had  tendered  to  syn- 
dicates— of  ten,  twelve,  and  seventeen  covers 

[  H7] 


The    Art    of  Living 

respeftively,  at  twenty  dollars  a  cover — fairly 
made  my  mouth  water  and  my  eyes  stick  out, 
so  that  I  felt  constrained  to  murmur,  "Your 
profits  must  certainly  be  very  large,  if  you  can 
afford  that  sort  of  thing.'' 

Pell  smiled  complacently  and  a  little  conde- 
scendingly. "  I  could  tell  you  of  things  which  I 
have  done  which  would  make  that  seem  a  baga- 
telle," he  answered,  with  engaging  mystery. 
Then  after  a  moment's  pause  he  said,  "Do  you 
know,  my  dear  fellow,  that  when  I  was  gradu- 
ated I  came  very  near  going  into  the  office  of  a 
pious  old  uncle  of  mine  who  has  been  a  commis- 
sion merchant  all  his  life,  and  is  as  poor  as  Job's 
turkey  in  spite  of  it  all — that  is,  poor  as  men  are 
rated  nowadays.  He  offered  to  take  me  as  a  clerk 
at  one  thousand  dollars  a  year,  with  the  promise 
of  a  partnership  before  I  was  bald-headed  in  case 
I  did  well.  Supposing  I  had  accepted  his  offer, 
where  should  I  be  to-day  ?  Grubbing  at  an  of- 
fice-desk and  earning  barely  enough  for  board 
and  lodging.  I  remember  my  dear  mother  took 
it  terribly  to  heart  because  I  went  into  a  broker's 
office  instead.  By  the  way,  between  ourselves, 
I  'm  building  a  steam-yacht — nothing  very  won- 
derful, but  a  neat,  comfortable  craft — and  I  'm 
[  h8  ] 


0  cc  up  at  ion 


looking  forward  next  summer  to  Inviting  my 
pious  old  uncle  to  cruise  on  her  just  to  see  him 
open  his  eyes." 

That  was  three  years  ago,  and  to-day  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  Lewis  Pell  is  without 
a  dollar  in  the  world,  or  rather,  that  every  dollar 
which  he  has  belongs  to  his  creditors.  I  had 
heard  before  his  failure  was  announced  that  he 
was  short  of  money,  for  the  reason  that  several 
enterprises  with  which  his  name  was  connected 
had  been  left  on  his  hands — neither  the  syndi- 
cates nor  the  public  would  touch  them — so  his 
suspension  was  scarcely  a  surprise.  He  at  present, 
poor  fellow,  is  only  one  of  an  army  of  young 
men  wandering  dejededly  through  the  streets 
of  New  York  or  Chicago  in  these  days  of  finan- 
cial depression,  vainly  seeking  for  something  to 
promote. 

When  the  promising  youth  and  the  general 
utility  man  do  get  rid  of  the  "Arabian  Nights'" 
notion,  and  recognize  that  signal  success  here,  in 
any  form,  is  likely  to  become  more  and  more 
difficult  to  attain,  and  will  be  the  legitimate  re- 
ward only  of  men  of  real  might,  of  unusual  abili- 
ties, originality,  or  dauntless  industry,  some  of 
the  callings  which  have  fallen,  as  it  were,  into 

[  H9  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

disrepute  through  their  lack  of  gambling  facili- 
ties, are  likely  to  loom  up  again  socially.  It  may 
be,  however,  that  modern  business  methods  and 
devices  have  had  the  effedt  of  killing  for  all  time 
that  highly  respedable  pillar  of  society  of  fifty 
years  ago,  the  old-fashioned  merchant,  who 
bought  and  sold  on  his  own  behalf,  or  on  com- 
mission, real  cargoes  of  merchandise,  and  real 
consignments  of  cotton,  wheat,  and  corn.  The 
telegraph  and  the  warehouse  certificate  have 
worked  such  havoc  that  almost  everything  now 
is  bought  and  sold  over  and  over  again  before 
it  is  grown  or  manufadlured,  and  by  the  time  it 
is  on  the  market  there  is  not  a  shred  of  profit  in 
it  for  anybody  but  the  retail  dealer.  It  remains 
to  be  seen  whether,  as  the  speculative  spirit  sub- 
sides, the  merchant  is  going  to  reinstate  himself 
and  regain  his  former  prestige.  It  may  already 
be  said  that  the  promising  youth  does  not  re- 
gard him  with  quite  so  much  contempt  as  he 
did. 

We  have  always  professed  in  this  country 
great  theoretical  resped:  for  the  schoolmaster, 
but  we  have  been  careful,  as  the  nation  waxed  in 
material  prosperity,  to  keep  his  pay  down  and 
to  shove  him  into  the  social  background  more 

[  150  ] 


Occupation 


and  more.  The  promising  youth  could  not  af- 
ford to  spend  his  manhood  in  this  wise,  and  we 
have  all  really  been  too  busy  making  money  to 
think  very  much  about  those  who  are  doing  the 
teaching.  Have  we  not  always  heard  it  stated  that 
our  schools  and  colleges  are  second  to  none  in 
the  world?  And  if  our  schools,  of  course  our* 
schoolmasters.  Therefore  why  bother  our  heads 
about  them  ?  It  is  indeed  wonderful,  considering 
the  little  popular  interest  in  the  subjeft  until 
lately,  that  our  schoolmasters  and  our  college 
professors  are  so  competent  as  they  are,  and  that 
the  profession  has  flourished  on  the  whole  in 
spite  of  indiflference  and  superiority.  How  can 
men  of  the  highest  class  be  expefted  to  devote 
their  lives  to  a  profession  which  yields  little  more 
than  a  pittance  when  one  is  thoroughly  success- 
ful ?  And  yet  the  education  of  our  children  ought 
to  be  one  of  our  dearest  concerns,  and  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  why  the  State  is  satisfied  to  pay  the 
average  instruftor  or  instructress  of  youth  about 
as  much  as  the  city  laborer  or  a  horse-car  con- 
ductor receives. 

There  are  signs  that  those  in  charge  of  our 
large  educational  institutions  all  over  the  coun- 
try are  beginning  to  recognize  that  ripe  scholar- 

[  151  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ship  and  rare  abilities  as  a  teacher  are  entitled  to 
be  well  recompensed  pecuniarily,  and  that  the 
breed  of  such  men  is  likely  to  increase  somewhat 
in  proportion  to  the  size  and  number  of  the 
prizes  offered.  Our  college  presidents  and  pro- 
fessors, those  at  the  head  of  our  large  schools 
and  seminaries,  should  receive  such  salaries  as 
will  enable  them  to  live  adequately.  By  this 
policy  not  only  would  our  promising  young  men 
be  encouraged  to  pursue  learning,  but  those  in 
the  highest  places  would  not  be  forced  by  po- 
verty to  live  in  comparative  retirement,  but  could 
become  active  social  figures  and  leaders.  In  any 
profession  or  calling  under  present  social  condi- 
tions only  those  in  the  foremost  rank  can  hope 
to  earn  more  than  a  living,  varying  in  quality 
according  to  the  degree  of  success  and  the  rank 
of  the  occupation;  but  it  is  to  be  hoped — and 
there  seems  some  reason  to  believe — that  the 
great  rewards  which  come  to  those  more  able 
and  industrious  than  their  fellows  will  hence- 
forth, in  the  process  of  our  national  evolution, 
be  more  evenly  distributed,  and  not  confined  so 
conspicuously  to  gambling,  speculative,  or  com- 
mercial successes.  The  leaders  in  the  great  pro- 
fessions of  law  and  medicine  have  for  some  time 

[  15^  ] 


Occupation 


past  declined  to  serve  the  free-born  community 
without  liberal  compensation,  and  the  same  com- 
munity, which  for  half  a  century  secretly  believed 
that  only  a  business  man  has  the  right  to  grow 
rich,  has  begun  to  recognize  that  there  are  even 
other  things  besides  litigation  and  health  which 
ought  to  come  high.  For  instance,  although  the 
trained  archite6t  still  meets  serious  and  depres- 
sing competition  from  those  ready-made  experi- 
menters in  design  who  pronounce  the  first  c  in 
the  word  archited:  as  though  it  were  an  J,  the  pub- 
lic is  rapidly  discovering  that  a  man  cannot  build 
an  attraftive  house  without  special  knowledge. 
In  the  same  class  with  the  law,  medicine,  and 
architedure,  and  seemingly  offering  at  present  a 
greater  scope  for  an  ambitious  young  man,  is  en- 
gineering in  all  its  branches.  The  furnaces,  mines, 
manufadories,  and  the  hydraulic,  electrical,  or 
other  plants  connedted  with  the  numerous  vast 
mechanical  business  enterprises  of  the  country 
are  furnishing  immediate  occupation  for  hun- 
dreds of  graduates  of  the  scientific  or  polytechnic 
schools  at  highly  respeftable  salaries.  This  field 
of  usefulness  is  certain  for  a  long  time  to  come  to 
offer  employment  and  a  fair  livelihood  to  many, 
and  large  returns  to  those  who  outstrip  their  con- 

[  153  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

temporaries.  More  and  more  Is  the  business  man, 
the  manufadurer,  and  the  capitalist  likely  to  be 
dependent  for  the  economical  or  successful  de- 
velopment and  management  of  undertakings  on 
the  judgment  of  scientific  experts  in  his  own  em- 
ployment or  called  in  to  advise,  and  it  is  only 
meet  that  the  counsel  given  should  be  paid  for 
handsomely. 

Those  who  pursue  literature  or  art  in  their 
various  branches  in  this  country,  and  have  ta- 
lents in  some  degree  commensurate  with  their 
ambition,  are  now  generally  able  to  make  a  com- 
fortable livelihood.  Indeed  the  men  and  women 
in  the  very  front  rank  are  beginning  to  receive 
incomes  which  would  be  highly  satisfactory  to  a 
leading  lawyer  or  physician.  Of  course  original 
work  in  literature  or  art  demands  special  ability 
and  fitness,  but  the  general  utility  man  is  begin- 
ning to  have  many  opportunities  presented  to 
him  in  connexion  with  what  may  be  called  the 
clerical  work  of  these  professions.  The  great 
magazines  and  publishing  houses  have  an  in- 
creasing need  for  trained,  scholarly  men,  for  ca- 
pable critics,  and  discerning  advisers  in  the  field 
both  of  letter-press  and  illustration.  Another 
calling  which  seems  to  promise  great  possibilities 

[  154] 


Occupation 


both  of  usefulness  and  income  to  those  who  de- 
vote themselves  to  it  earnestly  is  the  compara- 
tively new  profession  of  journalism.  The  re- 
porter, with  all  his  present  horrors,  is  in  the  pro- 
cess of  evolution;  but  the  journalist  is  sure  to 
remain  the  high-priest  of  democracy.  His  influ- 
ence is  almost  certain  to  increase  materially,  but 
it  will  not  increase  unless  he  seeks  to  lead  public 
thought  instead  of  bowing  to  it.  The  newspaper, 
in  order  to  flourish,  must  be  a  moulder  of  opin- 
ion, and  to  accomplish  this  those  who  control  its 
columns  must  more  and  more  be  men  of  educa- 
tion, force,  and  high  ideals.  Competition  will 
winnow  here  as  elsewhere,  but  those  who  by  abil- 
ity and  industry  win  the  chief  places  will  stand 
high  in  the  community  and  command  large  pay 
for  their  services. 

An  aristocracy  of  brains — that  is  to  say,  an 
aristocracy  composed  of  individuals  successful 
and  prominent  in  their  several  callings — seems 
to  be  the  logical  sequence  of  our  institutions  un- 
der present  social  and  industrial  conditions.  The 
only  aristocracy  which  can  exist  in  a  democracy 
is  one  of  honorable  success  evidenced  by  wealth 
or  a  handsome  income,  but  the  chara6ler  of  such 
an  aristocracy  will  depend  on  the  ambitions  and 

[  155  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

tastes  of  the  nation.  The  inevitable  economic  law 
of  supply  and  demand  governs  here  as  elsewhere, 
and  will  govern  until  such  a  time  as  society  may 
be  reconstructed  on  an  entirely  new  basis.  Only 
the  leaders  in  any  vocation  can  hope  to  grow  rich, 
but  in  proportion  as  the  demands  of  the  nation 
for  what  is  best  increase  will  the  type  and  char- 
afteristics  of  these  leaders  improve.  The  doing 
away  with  inherited  orders  of  nobility  and  delib- 
erate, patented  class  distinftions,  gives  the  entire 
field  to  wealth.  We  boast  proudly  that  no  arti- 
ficial barriers  confine  individual  social  promo- 
tion ;  but  we  must  remember  at  the  same  time 
that  those  old  barriers  meant  more  than  the  per- 
petuation of  perfumed  ladies  and  idle  gentlemen 
from  century  to  century.  We  are  too  apt  to  for- 
get that  the  aristocracies  of  the  old  world  signi- 
fied in  the  first  place  a  process  of  seledion.  The 
kings  and  the  nobles,  the  lords  and  the  barons, 
the  knights  who  fought  and  the  ladies  for  whom 
they  died,  were  the  master-spirits  of  their  days 
and  generations,  the  strong  arms  and  the  strong 
brains  of  civilized  communities.  They  stood  for 
force,  the  force  of  the  individual  who  was  more 
intelligent,  more  capable,  and  mightier  in  soul 
and  body  than  his  neighbors,  and  who  claimed 


Occupation 


the  prerogatives  of  superiority  on  that  account. 
These  master-spirits,  it  is  true,  used  these  pre- 
rogatives in  such  a  manner  as  to  crystallize  soci- 
ety into  the  classes  and  the  masses,  so  hopelessly 
for  the  latter  that  the  gulf  between  them  still  is 
wide  as  an  ocean,  notwithstanding  that  present 
nobilities  have  been  shorn  of  their  power  so  that 
they  may  be  said  to  exist  chiefly  by  sufferance. 
And  yet  the  world  is  still  the  same  in  that  there 
are  men  more  intelligent,  more  capable,  and 
mightier  in  soul  and  body  than  their  fellows. 
The  leaders  of  the  past  won  their  spurs  by  prow- 
ess with  the  battle-axe  and  spear,  by  wise  coun- 
sel in  affairs  of  state,  by  the  sheer  force  of  their 
superior  manhood.  The  gentleman  and  lady 
stood  for  the  best  blood  of  the  world,  though 
they  so  often  belied  it  by  their  adions. 

We,  who  are  accustomed  to  applaud  our  civil- 
ization as  the  hope  of  the  world,  may  well  look 
across  the  water  and  take  suggestions  from  the 
institutions  of  Great  Britain,  not  with  the  idea  of 
imitation,  but  with  a  view  to  consider  the  forces 
at  work  there.  For  nearly  a  century  now  the  go- 
vernment, though  in  form  a  monarchy,  has  been 
substantially  a  constitutional  republic,  imbued 
with  inherited  traditions  and  somewhat  galvan- 

[  157] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

YLt,di  by  class  distindions,  but  nevertheless  a  con- 
stitutional republic.  The  nobility  still  exists  as  a 
sort  of  French  roof  or  Eastern  pagoda  to  give 
a  pleasing  appearance  to  the  social  edifice.  The 
hereditary  meaning  of  titles  has  been  so  largely 
negatived  by  the  introduction  of  new  blood — 
the  blood  of  the  strongest  men  of  the  period 
— that  they  have  become,  what  they  originally 
were,  badges  to  distinguish  the  men  most  valu- 
able to  the  State.  Their  abolition  is  merely  a 
question  of  time,  and  many  of  the  leaders  to 
whom  they  are  proffered  reje6t  them  as  they 
would  a  cockade  or  a  yellow  satin  waistcoat.  On 
the  other  hand,  and  here  is  the  point  of  argu- 
ment, the  real  aristocracy  of  England  for  the  last 
hundred  years  has  been  an  aristocracy  of  the 
foremost,  ablest,  and  worthiest  men  of  the  na- 
tion, and  with  few  exceptions  the  social  and 
pecuniary  rewards  have  been  bestowed  both  by 
the  State  and  by  public  appreciation  on  the  mas- 
ter-spirits of  the  time  in  the  best  sense.  Brilliant 
statesmanship,  wisdom  on  the  bench,  the  sur- 
geon's skill,  the  banker's  sound  discernment, 
genius  in  literature  and  art,  when  signally  con- 
tributed by  the  individual,  have  won  him  fame 
and  fortune. 

[  158  ] 


Occupation 


It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  pecuniary 
rewards  of  science  and  literature  have  been  less 
conspicuous  than  those  accorded  to  other  suc- 
cesses, but  that  has  been  due  to  the  inherent 
pradical  temperament  and  artistic  limitations  of 
the  Englishman,  and  can  scarcely  be  an  argu- 
ment against  the  contention  that  English  society 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  with  all  its  social  idio- 
syncrasies, has  really  been  graded  on  the  order 
of  merit. 

The  tide  of  democracy  has  set  in  across  the 
water  and  is  running  strongly,  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  next  century  is  likely  to  work 
great  and  strange  changes  in  the  conditions  of 
society  in  England  as  well  as  here.  The  same 
questions  praftically  are  presented  to  each  nation, 
except  that  there  a  carefully  constructed  and  in 
many  respeds  admirable  system  of  society  is  to 
be  disintegrated.  We  are  a  new  country,  and  we 
have  a  right  to  be  hopeful  that  we  are  sooner  or 
later  to  outstrip  all  civilizations.  Nor  is  it  a  blem- 
ish that  the  astonishing  development  of  our  ma- 
terial resources  has  absorbed  the  energies  of  our 
best  blood.  But  it  now  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
the  standards  of  pure  democracy,  without  tradi- 
tions or  barriers  to  point  the  way,  are  to  justify 

[  ^S9-\ 


The    Art    of  Living 

the  experiment  and  improve  the  race.  The  char- 
ader  of  our  aristocracy  will  depend  on  the  vir- 
tues and  tastes  of  the  people,  and  the  struggle 
is  to  be  between  aspiration  and  contentment  with 
low  ambitions.  Our  original  undertaking  has  been 
made  far  more  diiBcult  by  the  infusion  of  the 
worst  blood  in  Christendom,  the  lees  of  foreign 
nations ;  but  the  result  of  the  experiment  will  be 
much  more  convincing  because  of  this  change  in 
conditions. 

Who  are  to  be  the  men  of  might  and  heroes 
of  democracy  ?  That  will  depend  on  the  demands 
and  aspirations  of  the  enfranchised  people.  With 
all  its  imperfedions,  the  civilization  of  the  past 
has  fostered  the  noble  arts  and  stirred  genius  to 
immortalize  itself  in  bronze  and  marble,  in  cathe- 
dral spires,  in  masterpieces  of  painting  and  litera- 
ture, in  untiring  scholarship,  in  fervent  labors  in 
law,  medicine,  and  science.  Democracy  must  care 
for  these  things,  and  encourage  the  individual  to 
choose  worthy  occupations,  or  society  will  suffer. 
We  hope  and  believe  that,  in  the  long  run,  the 
standards  of  humanity  will  be  raised  rather  than 
lowered  by  the  lifting  of  the  flood-gates  which 
divide  the  privileged  classes  from  the  mass ;  but 
it  behooves  us  all  to  remember  that  while  de- 
[  i6o] 


Occupation 


mand  and  supply  must  be  the  leading  arbiters 
in  the  choice  of  a  vocation,  the  responsibility  of 
selection  is  left  to  each  individual.  Only  by  the 
example  of  individuals  will  society  be  saved  from 
accepting  the  low,  vulgar  aims  and  ambitions  of 
the  mass  as  a  desirable  weal,  and  this  is  the 
strongest  argument  against  the  dodrines  of  those 
who  would  repress  individuality  for  the  alleged 
benefit  of  mankind  as  a  whole.  The  past  has 
given  us  many  examples  of  the  legislator  who 
cannot  be  bribed,  of  the  statesman  faithful  to 
principle,  of  the  student  who  disdains  to  be  su- 
perficial, of  the  gentleman  who  is  noble  in 
thought,  and  speech  and  adion,  and  they  stand 
on  the  roll  of  the  world's  great  men.  Democracy 
cannot  afford  not  to  continue  to  add  to  this  list, 
and  either  she  must  steel  her  countenance  against 
the  cheap  man  and  his  works,  or  sooner  or  later 
be  confounded.  Was  Marie  Antoinette  a  more 
dangerous  enemy  of  the  people  than  the  news- 
paper proprietor  who  acquires  fortune  by  cater- 
ing to  the  lowest  tastes  and  prejudices  of  the 
public,  or  the  self-made  capitalist  who  argues 
that  every  man  has  his  price,  and  seeks  to  ac- 
complish legislation  by  bribery  ? 


[i6i] 


The    Use    of  Time. 
I. 

®®@ft  BROUGHT  Rogers  home  with 

{&  Y  {&  ^^  again  the  other  day.  I  do  not 
^M\  I  ^^  rnean  Rogers  in  the  flesh;  but 
^sf  ^if  the  example  of  Rogers  as  a  bogy 

^PI^I^^P  with  which  to  confound  my  bet- 
ter half  and  myself.  You  may  recall  that  Rogers 
is  the  bookkeeper  for  Patterson  the  banker, 
and  that  he  has  brought  up  and  educated  a 
family  on  a  salary  of  twenty-two  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year. 

"Barbara/'  said  I,  "we  were  reflecting  yester- 
day that  we  never  have  time  to  do  the  things 
we  really  wish  to  do.  Have  yjou  ever  considered 
how  Rogers  spends  his  time?" 

My  wife  admitted  that  she  had  not,  and  she 
dutifully  waited  for  me  to  proceed,  though  I 
could  tell  from  the  expression  of  her  mouth  that 
she  did  not  exped:  to  derive  much  assistance 
from  the  example  of  Mr.  Rogers.  Therefore  I 
made  an  interesting  pathological  dedudlion  to 
begin  with. 

"Rogers  does  not  live  on  his  nerves  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other,  as  we  do." 
[  i6a] 


The    Use    of  Ti 


me 


"I  congratulate  him,"  said  Barbara,  with  a 
sigh. 

"  And  yet,*'  I  continued,  "  he  leads  a  highly 
respeftable  and  fairly  interesting  life.  He  gets  up 
at  precisely  the  same  hour  every  morning,  has 
his  breakfast,  reads  the  paper,  and  is  at  his  desk 
pundually  on  time.  He  dines  frugally,  returns 
to  his  desk  until  half-past  four  or  five,  and  after 
performing  any  errands  which  Mrs.  Rogers  has 
asked  him  to  attend  to,  goes  home  to  the  bosom 
of  his  family.  There  he  exchanges  his  coat  and 
boots  for  a  dressing-gown,  or  aged  smoking- 
jacket,  and  slippers,  and  remains  by  his  fireside 
absorbed  in  the  evening  paper  until  tea-time. 
Conversation  with  the  members  of  his  family 
beguiles  him  for  half  an  hour  after  the  comple- 
tion of  the  meal ;  then  he  settles  down  to  the 
family  weekly  magazine,  or  plays  checkers  or 
backgammon  with  his  wife  or  daughters.  After 
a  while,  if  he  is  interested  in  ferns  or  grasses,  he 
looks  to  see  how  his  specimens  are  growing  under 
the  glass  case  in  the  corner.  He  pats  the  cat  and 
makes  sure  that  the  canary  is  supplied  with  seed. 
Now  and  then  he  brings  home  a  puzzle,  like 
^  Pigs  in  Clover,'  which  keeps  him  up  half  an 
hour  later  than  usual,  but  ordinarily  his  head  is 

[  163  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

nodding  before  the  stroke  of  ten  warns  him  that 
his  bed-hour  has  come.  And  just  at  the  time 
that  the  wife  of  his  employer,  Patterson,  may  be 
setting  out  for  a  ball,  he  is  tucking  himself  up 
in  bed  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Rogers. 

"  Poor  man  !  "  interjeded  Barbara. 

"He  has  his  diversions,"  said  I.  "  Now  and 
again  neighbors  drop  in  for  a  chat,  and  the  even- 
ing is  wound  up  with  a  pitcher  of  lemonade  and 
angel-cake.  He  and  his  wife  drop  in,  in  their 
turn,  or  he  goes  to  a  political  caucus.  Once  a 
fortnight  comes  the  church  sociable,  and  every 
now  and  then  a  wedding.  From  time  to  time  he 
and  Mrs.  Rogers  attend  leftures.  His  young  peo- 
ple entertain  their  friends,  as  the  occasion  offers, 
in  a  simple  way,  and  on  Sunday  he  goes  to  church 
in  the  morning  and  falls  to  sleep  after  a  heavy 
dinner  in  the  afternoon.  He  leads  a  quiet,  peace- 
ful, conservative  existence,  unharassed  by  social 
fundions  and  perpetual  excitement." 

"And  he  prides  himself,  I  dare  say,"  said 
Barbara,  "on  the  score  of  its  virtuousness.  He 
saves  his  nerves  and  he  congratulates  himself 
that  he  is  not  a  society  person,  as  he  calls  it. 
Your  Mr.  Rogers  may  be  a  very  estimable  in- 
dividual, dear,  in  his  own  sphere,  and  I  do  think 

[  164] 


"The    Use    of  Time 


he  manages  wonderfully  on  his  twenty-two  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year;  but  I  should  prefer  to  see 
you  lose  your  nerves  and  become  a  gibbering 
vidlim  of  nervous  prostration  rather  than  that 
you  should  imitate  him." 

"I  'm  not  proposing  to  imitate  him,  Barbara," 
I  answered,  gravely.  "  I  admit  that  his  life  seems 
rather  dull  and  not  altogether  inspiring,  but  I 
do  think  that  a  little  of  his  repose  would  be 
beneficial  to  many  of  us  whose  interests  are  more 
varied.  We  might  borrow  it  to  advantage  for  a 
few  months  in  the  year,  don't  you  think  so  ?  I 
believe,  Barbara,  that  if  you  and  I  were  each  of 
us  to  lie  flat  on  our  backs  for  one  hour  every 
day  and  think  of  nothing — and  not  even  clinch 
our  hands — we  should  succeed  in  doing  more 
things  than  we  really  wish  to  do." 

"I  suppose  it's  the  climate — they  say  it's 
the  climate,"  said  Barbara,  pensively.  "Foreign- 
ers don't  seem  to  be  aflfeded  in  that  way.  They  're 
not  always  in  a  hurry  as  we  are,  and  yet  they 
seem  to  accomplish  very  nearly  as  much.  We 
all  know  what  it  is  to  be  conscious  of  that  dread- 
ful, nervous,  hurried  feeling,  even  when  we  have 
plenty  of  time  to  do  the  things  we  have  to  do. 
I  catch  myself  walking  fast — racing,  in  fad — 

[165] 


The    Art    of  Living 

when  there  is  not  the  least  need  of  it.  I  don't 
clinch  my  hands  nearly  so  much  as  I  used,  and 
I  Ve  ceased  to  hold  on  to  the  pillow  in  bed  as 
though  it  were  a  life-preserver,  out  of  deference 
to  Delsarte,  but  when  it  comes  to  lying  down 
flat  on  my  back  for  an  hour  a  day — every  day 
— really  it  is  n't  feasible.  It 's  an  ideal  plan,  I 
dare  say,  but  the  days  are  not  long  enough.  Just 
take  to-day,  for  instance,  and  tell  me,  please, 
when  I  had  time  to  lie  down." 

"You  are  clinching  your  hands  now,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"Because  you  have  irritated  me  with  your 
everlasting  Mr.  Rogers,"  retorted  Barbara.  She 
examined,  nevertheless,  somewhat  dejededly, 
the  marks  of  her  nails  in  her  palms.  "In  the 
morning,  for  instance,  when  I  came  down  to 
breakfast  there  was  the  mail.  Two  dinner  invi- 
tations and  an  afternoon  tea;  two  sets  of  wed- 
ding-cards, and  a  notice  of  a  ledure  by  Miss 
Clara  Hatheway  on  the  relative  condition  of 
primary  schools  here  and  abroad;  requests  for 
subscriptions  to  the  new  Cancer  Hospital  and 
the  Children's  Fresh  Air  and  Vacation  Fund; 
an  advertisement  of  an  after-holiday  sale  of  boys' 
and  girls' clothes  at  Halliday's;  a  note  from  Mrs. 
[  i66] 


The    Use    of  Time 


James  Green  asking  particulars  regarding  our 
last  cook,  and  a  letter  from  the  President  of  my 
Woman's  Club  notifying  me  that  I  was  expeAed 
to  talk  to  them  at  the  next  meeting  on  the  ar- 
guments in  favor  of  and  against  the  ownership 
by  cities  and  towns  of  gas  and  water-works.  All 
these  had  to  be  answered,  noted,  or  considered. 
Then  I  had  to  interview  the  cook  and  the 
butcher  and  the  grocer  about  the  dinner,  give 
orders  that  a  button  should  be  sewn  on  one  pair 
of  your  trousers  and  a  stain  removed  from  an- 
other, and  give  direftions  to  the  chore-man  to 
oil  the  lock  of  the  front-door,  and  tell  him  to  go 
post-haste  for  the  plumber  to  extrad  the  blot- 
ting-paper which  the  children  yesterday  stuffed 
down  the  drain-pipe  in  the  bath-tub,  so  that  the 
water  could  not  escape.  Then  I  had  to  sit  down 
and  read  the  newspaper.  Not  because  I  had  time, 
or  wished  to,  but  to  make  sure  that  there  was 
nothing  in  it  which  you  could  accuse  me  of  not 
having  read.  After  this  I  dressed  to  go  out.  I 
stopped  at  the  florist's  to  order  some  roses  for 
Mrs.  Julius  Caesar,  whose  mother  is  dead;  at 
Hapgood  &  Wales's  and  at  Jones's  for  cotton- 
batting,  hooks  and  eyes,  and  three  yards  of  rib- 
bon; at  Belcher's  for  an  umbrella   to   replace 

[  ^67] 


The    Art    of  Living 

mine,  which  you  left  in  the  cable-cars,  and  at 
the  library  to  seled  something  to  read.  I  arrived 
home  breathless  for  the  children's  dinner,  and 
immediately  afterward  I  dressed  and  went  to  the 
meeting  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Wo- 
man's Club,  stopping  on  the  way  to  inquire  if 
Mrs.  Wilson's  little  boy  were  better.  We  started 
by  discussing  a  proposed  change  in  our  Consti- 
tution regarding  the  number  of  black-balls  ne- 
cessary to  exclude  a  candidate,  and  drifted  off  on 
to  *  Trilby.'  It  was  nearly  five  when  I  got  away, 
and  as  I  felt  it  on  my  conscience  to  go  both  to 
Mrs.  Southwick's  and  Mrs.  Williams's  teas,  I 
made  my  appearance  at  each  for  a  few  minutes, 
but  managed  to  slip  away  so  as  to  be  at  home 
at  six.  When  you  came  in  I  had  just  been  read- 
ing to  the  children  and  showing  them  about  their 
lessons.  Now  I  have  only  just  time  to  drei  s  for 
dinner,  for  we  dine  at  the  Gregory  Browns,  at 
half-past  seven.  We  ought  to  go  later  to  the  re- 
ception at  Mrs.  Hollis's — it  is  her  last  of  three 
and  we  have  n't  been  yet — but  I  suppose  you 
will  say  you  are  too  tired.  There !  will  you  tell 
me  when  I  could  have  found  time  to  lie  down 
for  an  hour  to-day  ?" 

I  was  constrained  to  laugh  at  my  wife's  reci- 
[  i68] 


The    Use    of  Time 


tal,  and  I  was  not  able  at  the  moment  to  point 
out  to  her  exadlly  what  she  might  have  omitted 
from  her  category  so  as  to  make  room  for  the 
hour  of  repose.  Nor,  indeed,  as  I  review  the 
events  of  my  own  daily  life  and  of  the  daily  lives 
of  my  friends  and  acquaintances,  am  I  able  to 
define  precisely  where  it  could  be  brought  in. 
And  yet  are  we  not — many  of  us  who  are  in  the 
thick  of  modern  life — conscious  that  our  days 
are,  as  it  were,  congested  ?  We  feel  sure  that  so 
far  as  our  physical  comfort  is  concerned  we  ought 
to  be  doing  less,  and  we  shrewdly  susped  that,  if 
we  had  more  time  in  which  to  think,  our  spirit- 
ual natures  would  be  the  gainers.  The  difficulty 
is  to  stop,  or  rather  to  reduce  the  speed  of  mo- 
dern living  to  the  point  at  which  these  high-pres- 
sure nervous  symptoms  disappear,  and  the  days 
cease  to  seem  too  short  for  what  we  wish  to 
accomplish.  Perhaps  those  who  take  an  intense 
interest  in  living  will  never  be  able  to  regain  that 
delightful  condition  of  equipoise,  if  it  ever  ex- 
isted, which  our  ancestors  both  here  and  across 
the  water  are  said  to  have  experienced.  Perhaps, 
too,  our  ancestors  were  more  in  a  hurry  when 
they  were  alive  than  they  seem  to  have  been  now 
that  they  are  dead;  but,  whether  this  be  true  or 

[  169] 


The    Art    of  Living 

otherwise,  we  are  confidently  told  by  those  who 
ought  to  know  that  we  Americans  of  this  day  and 
generation  are  the  most  restless,  nervous  people 
under  the  sun,  and  live  at  a  higher  pressure  than 
our  contemporaries  of  the  effete  civilizations.  It 
used  to  be  charged  that  we  were  in  such  haste  to 
grow  rich  that  there  was  no  health  in  us;  and 
now  that  we  are,  or  soon  will  be,  the  wealthiest 
nation  in  the  world,  they  tell  us  that  we  continue 
to  maintain  the  same  feverish  pace  in  all  that  we 
undertake  or  do. 

I  am  not  sure  that  this  charge  could  not  be 
brought  against  the  Englishman,  Frenchman,  or 
German  of  to-day  with  almost  equal  justice,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  it  is  a  charaderistic  of  the 
age  rather  than  of  our  nation ;  but  that  convic- 
tion would  merely  solace  our  pride  and  could  not 
assuage  "  that  tired  feeling ''  of  which  so  many 
are  conscious.  At  all  events,  if  we  do  not  work 
harder  than  our  kinsmen  across  the  sea,  we  seem 
to  bear  the  strain  less  well.  It  may  be  the  climate, 
as  my  wife  has  said,  which  causes  our  nervous 
systems  to  rebel ;  but  then,  again,  we  cannot 
change  the  climate,  and  consequently  must  adapt 
ourselves  to  its  idiosyncrasies. 

Ever  since  we  first  began  to  declare  that  we 

[  170  ] 


The    Use    of  Ti 


me 


were  superior  to  all  other  civilizations  we  have 
been  noted  for  our  energy.  The  way  in  which  we 
did  everything,  from  sawing  wood  to  eled:ing  a 
President,  was  conspicuous  by  virtue  of  the  bust- 
ling, hustling  qualities  displayed.  But  it  is  no 
longer  high  treason  to  state  that  our  national  life, 
in  spite  of  its  bustle,  was,  until  comparatively  re- 
cently, lacking  in  color  and  variety.  The  citizen 
who  went  to  bed  on  the  stroke  often  every  night 
and  did  praftically  the  same  thing  each  day  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other  was  the  ideal  citizen 
of  the  Republic,  and  was  popularly  described  as 
a  conservative  and  a  strong  man.  His  life  was 
led  within  very  repressed  limits,  and  anything 
more  artistic  than  a  chromo  or  religious  motto 
was  apt  to  irritate  him  and  shock  his  principles. 
To  be  sure,  we  had  then  our  cultivated  class — 
more  narrowly  but  possibly  more  deeply  culti- 
vated than  its  flourishing  successor  of  to-day — 
but  the  average  American,  despite  his  civic  vir- 
tues and  consciousness  of  redlitude,  led  a  hum- 
drum existence,  however  hustling  or  bustling. 
There  is  a  large  percentage  of  our  population  that 
continues  to  live  in  much  the  same  manner,  not- 
withstanding the  wave  of  enlightenment  which 
has  swept  over  the  country  and  keyed  us  all  up 

[  171  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

to  concert  pitch  by  multiplying  the  number  of 
our  interests.  I  feel  a  little  guilty  in  having  in- 
cluded Rogers  among  this  number,  for  I  really 
know  of  my  own  knowledge  nothing  about  his 
individual  home  life.  It  may  be  that  I  have  been 
doing  him  a  rank  injustice,  and  that  his  home  is 
in  reality  a  seething  caldron  of  progress.  I  re- 
ferred to  him  as  a  type  rather  than  as  an  indi- 
vidual, knowing  as  I  do  that  there  are  still  too 
many  homes  in  this  country  where  music,  art, 
literature,  social  tastes,  and  intelligent  interest  in 
human  affairs  in  the  abstrad,  when  developed 
beyond  mere  rudimentary  lines,  are  unappreci- 
ated and  regarded  as  vanities  or  inanities. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  more  in- 
teresting in  our  present  national  evolution  than 
the  eager  recognition  by  the  intelligent  and  as- 
piring portion  of  the  people  that  we  have  been 
and  are  ignorant,  and  that  the  true  zest  of  life 
lies  in  its  many-sidedness  and  its  possibilities  of 
development  along  aesthetic,  social,  and  intellec- 
tual as  well  as  moral  lines.  The  United  States 
to-day  is  fairly  bristling  with  eager,  ambitious 
students,  and  with  people  of  both  sexes,  young 
and  middle-aged,  who  are  anxiously  seeking  how 
to  make  the  most  of  life.  This  eagerness  of  soul 

C  172  ] 


The    Use    of  Time 


IS  not  confined  to  any  social  class,  and  is  notice- 
able in  every  sedion  of  the  country  in  greater  or 
less  degree.  It  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  found  among 
people  of  very  humble  means  as  among  those 
whose  earliest  associations  have  brought  them 
into  contad:  with  the  well-to-do  and  carefully 
educated.  Therefore  I  beg  the  pardon  of  Rogers 
in  case  I  have  put  him  individually  in  the  wrong 
category.  A  divine  yet  cheery  adivity  has  largely 
taken  the  place  of  sodden  self-righteousness  on 
the  one  hand,  and  analytical  self-consciousness 
on  the  other.  The  class  is  not  as  yet  very  large 
as  compared  with  the  entire  population  of  the 
country,  but  it  is  growing  rapidly,  and  its  mem- 
bers are  the  most  interesting  men  and  women  of 
the  Republic — those  who  are  in  the  van  of  our 
development  as  a  people. 

Overcrowded  and  congested  lives  signify  at 
least  earnestness  and  absorption.  Human  nature 
is  more  likely  to  aspire  and  advance  when  so- 
ciety is  nervously  aftive,  than  when  it  is  bovine 
and  self-congratulatory.  But  nerves  can  endure 
only  a  certain  amount  of  strain  without  remind- 
ing human  beings  that  strong  and  healthy  bodies 
are  essential  to  true  national  progress.  Only  re- 
cently in  this  country  have  we  learned  to  con- 

[   173  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

sider  the  welfare  of  the  body,  and  though  we 
have  begun  to  be  deadly  in  earnest  about  ath- 
letics, the  present  generation  of  workers  was, 
for  the  most  part,  brought  up  on  the  theory  that 
flesh  and  blood  was  a  limitation  rather  than  a 
prerequisite.  We  are  doing  bravely  in  this  matter 
so  far  as  the  education  of  our  children  is  con- 
cerned, but  it  is  too  late  to  do  much  for  our  own 
nerves.  Though  stagnation  is  a  more  deplorable 
state,  it  behooves  us,  nevertheless,  if  possible,  to 
rid  ourselves  of  congestion  for  our  ultimate 
safety. 

An  adive  man  or  woman  stopping  to  think 
in  the  morning  may  well  be  appalled  at  the  va- 
riety of  his  or  her  life.  The  ubiquity  of  the  mo- 
dern American  subconsciousness  is  something 
unique.  We  wish  to  know  everything  there  is 
to  know.  We  are  interested  not  merely  in  our 
own  and  our  neighbors'  affairs — with  a  know- 
ledge of  which  so  many  citizens  of  other  lands 
are  peacefully  contented — but  we  are  eager  to 
know,  and  to  know  with  tolerable  accuracy,  what 
is  going  on  all  over  the  world — in  England, 
China,  Russia,  and  Australia.  Not  merely  po- 
litically, but  socially,  artistically,  scientifically, 
philosophically,  and  ethically.  No  subjed:  is  too 

[  174] 


The    Use    of  Ti 


me 


technical  for  our  interest,  provided  it  comes  in 
our  way,  whether  it  concern  the  canals  in  Mars 
or  the  antitoxin  germ.  The  newspaper  and  the 
telegraph  have  done  much  to  promote  this  ubi- 
quity of  the  mind's  eye  all  over  the  world,  but  the 
interests  of  the  average  American  are  much  wi- 
der and  more  diversified  than  those  of  any  other 
people.  An  Englishman  will  have  his  hobbies 
and  know  them  thoroughly,  but  regarding  af- 
fairs beyond  the  pale  of  his  limited  inquiry  he 
is  deliberately  and  often  densely  ignorant.  He 
reads,  and  reads  augustly,  one  newspaper,  one  or 
two  magazines — a  few  books;  we,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  not  content  unless  we  stretch  out  feel- 
ers in  many  direftions  and  keep  posted,  as  we 
call  it,  by  hasty  perusals  of  almost  innumerable 
publications  for  fear  lest  something  escape  us. 
What  does  the  Frenchman — the  average  intelli- 
gent Frenchman — know  or  care  about  the  mode 
of  our  Presidential  eledions,  and  whether  this 
Republican  or  that  Democrat  has  made  or 
marred  his  political  reputation  ?  We  feel  that  we 
require  to  inform  ourselves  not  only  concerning 
the  art  and  literature  of  France,  but  to  have  the 
names  and  doings  of  her  statesmen  at  our  fin- 
gers' ends  for  use  in  polite  conversation,  and  the 

[175] 


The    Art    of  Living 

satisfaftion  of  the  remains  of  the  New  England 
conscience.  All  this  is  highly  commendable,  if 
it  does  not  tend  to  render  us  superficial.  The 
more  knowledge  we  have,  the  better,  provided 
we  do  not  fall  into  the  slough  of  knowing  noth- 
ing very  well,  or  hunt  our  wits  to  death  by  over- 
acquisitiveness.  There  is  so  much  nowadays  to 
learn,  and  seemingly  so  little  time  in  which  to 
learn  it,  we  cannot  afford  to  spread  ourselves  too 
thin. 

The  energy  of  our  people  has  always  been 
conspicuous  in  the  case  of  women.  The  Ameri- 
can woman,  from  the  earliest  days  of  our  history, 
has  refused  to  be  prevented  by  the  limitations  of 
time  or  physique  from  trying  to  include  the  en- 
tire gamut  of  human  feminine  adivity  in  her  daily 
experience.  There  was  a  period  when  she  could 
demonstrate  successfully  her  ability  to  cook, 
sweep,  rear  and  educate  children,  darn  her  hus- 
band's stockings,  and  yet  entertain  delightfully, 
dress  tastefully,  and  be  well  versed  in  literature 
and  all  the  current  phases  of  high  thinking.  The 
New  England  woman  of  fifty  years  ago  was  cer- 
tainly an  interesting  specimen  from  this  point 
of  view,  in  spite  of  her  morbid  conscience  and 
polar  sexual  proclivities.  But  among  the  well-to- 

[  ^76] 


The    Use    of  Time 


do  women  of  the  nation  to-day — the  women  who 
correspond  socially  to  those  just  described — 
this  achievement  is  possible  only  by  taxing  the 
human  system  to  the  point  of  distress,  except 
in  the  newly  or  thinly  settled  portions  of  the 
country,  where  the  style  of  living  is  simple  and 
primitive. 

In  the  East,  of  course,  in  the  cities  and  towns 
the  women  in  question  ceased  long  ago  to  do  all 
the  housework ;  and  among  the  well-to-do,  ser- 
vants have  relieved  her  of  much,  if  not  of  all  of 
the  physical  labor.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
complexities  of  our  modern  establishments,  and 
the  worry  which  her  domestics  cause  her,  make 
the  burden  of  her  responsibilities  fully  equal  to 
what  they  were  when  she  cooked  flap-jacks  and 
darned  stockings  herself.  In  other  countries  the 
women  conversant  with  literature,  art,  and  sci- 
ence, who  go  in  for  philanthropy,  photography, 
or  the  ornamentation  of  china,  who  write  papers 
on  sociological  or  educational  matters,  are,  for 
the  most  part,  women  of  leisure  in  other  respedls. 
The  American  woman  is  the  only  woman  at 
large  in  the  universe  who  aims  to  be  the  wife 
and  mother  of  a  family,  the  mistress  of  an  estab- 
lishment, a  solver  of  world  problems,  a  social 

[   177  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

leader,  and  a  philanthropist  or  artistic  devotee 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  Each  of  these  inter- 
ests has  its  determined  followers  among  the  wo- 
men of  other  civilizations,  but  nowhere  except 
here  does  the  eternal  feminine  seek  to  manifest 
itself  in  so  many  directions  in  the  same  individ- 
ual. 

This  charafteristic  of  our  womanhood  is  a  vir- 
tue up  to  a  certain  point.  The  American  woman 
has  certainly  impressed  her  theory  that  her  sex 
should  cease  to  be  merely  pliant,  credulous,  and 
ignorantly  complacent  so  forcibly  on  the  world 
that  society  everywhere  has  been  affeded  by  it. 
Her  desire  to  make  the  most  of  herself,  and  to 
participate  as  completely  as  possible  in  the  vital 
work  of  the  world  without  negleding  the  duties 
allotted  to  her  by  the  older  civilizations,  is  in  the 
line  of  desirable  evolution.  But  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  being  superficial,  which  is  far  more  to  be 
dreaded  than  even  nervous  prostration.  Those 
absorbed  in  the  earnest  struggle  of  modern  living 
may  perhaps  justly  claim  that  to  work  until  one 
drops  is  a  noble  fault,  and  that  disregard  of  one's 
own  sensations  and  comfort  is  almost  indispen- 
sable In  order  to  accomplish  ever  so  little.  But 
there  is  nothing  noble  in  superficiality;  and  It 

[178] 


The    Use    of  Ti 


me 


would  seem  that  the  constant  flitting  from  one 
interest  to  another,  which  so  many  American  wo- 
men seem  unable  to  avoid,  must  necessarily  tend 
to  prevent  them  from  knowing  or  doing  any- 
thing thoroughly. 

As  regards  the  creature  man,  the  critics  of  this 
country  have  been  accustomed  to  assert  that  he 
was  so  much  absorbed  in  making  money,  or  in 
business,  as  our  popular  phrase  is,  that  he  had 
no  time  for  anything  else.  This  accusation  used 
to  be  extraordinarily  true,  and  in  certain  parts  of 
the  country  it  has  not  altogether  ceased  to  be 
true;  though  even  there  the  persistent  masculine 
dollar-hunter  regards  wistfully  and  proudly  the 
aesthetic  propensities  of  the  female  members  of 
his  family,  and  feels  that  his  labors  are  sweetened 
thereby.  This  is  a  very  diff^erent  attitude  from 
the  self-sufficiency  of  half  a  century  ago.  The 
difficulty  now  is  that  our  intelligent  men,  like  our 
women,  are  apt  to  attempt  too  much,  inclined  to 
crowd  into  each  and  every  day  more  sensations 
than  they  can  assimilate.  An  Englishwoman, 
prominent  in  educational  matters,  and  intelligent 
withal,  recently  expressed  her  surprise  to  my 
wife,  Barbara,  that  the  American  gentleman  ex- 
isted. She  had  been  long  familiar  with  the  Ameri- 

[  179  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

can  woman  as  a  charming,  if  original,  native  pro- 
ducft,  but  she  had  never  heard  of  the  American 
gentleman — meaning  thereby  the  alert,  thought- 
ful man  of  high  purposes  and  good-breeding. 
"How  many  there  are  !"  the  Briton  went  on  to 
say  in  the  enthusiasm  of  her  surprise.  Indeed 
there  are.  The  men  prominent  in  the  leading 
walks  of  life  all  over  this  country  now  compare 
favorably,  at  least,  with  the  best  of  other  nations, 
unless  it  be  that  our  intense  desire  to  know 
everything  has  rendered,  or  may  render,  us  ac- 
complished rather  than  profound. 


[  i8o  ] 


The    Use   of  Time. 
II. 

^^I^^^FTER  all,  whether  this  suggestion 
f^  A  J^  ^^  ^  tendency  toward  superficiality 
^^2S^^^  be  well  founded  or  not,  the  proper 
vj^^^^i^  use  of  time  has  come  to  be  a  more 
serious  problem  than  ever  for  the  entire  world. 
The  demands  of  modern  living  are  so  exacting 
that  men  and  women  everywhere  must  exercise 
deliberate  seledion  in  order  to  live  wisely.  To 
lay  down  general  rules  for  the  use  of  time  would 
be  as  futile  as  to  insist  that  every  one  should  use 
coats  of  the  same  size  and  color,  and  eat  the  same 
kind  and  quantity  of  food.  The  best  modern  liv- 
ing may  perhaps  be  corredly  defined  as  a  happy 
compromise  in  the  aims  and  adions  of  the  indi- 
vidual between  self-interest  and  altruism. 

If  one  seeks  to  illustrate  this  definition  by  ex- 
ample it  is  desirable  in  the  first  place  to  eliminate 
the  individuals  in  the  community  whose  use  of 
time  is  so  completely  out  of  keeping  with  this 
dodrine  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  consider 
them.  Murderers,  forgers,  and  criminals  of  all 
kinds,  including  business  men  who  pradise  petty 
thefts,  and  respedable  tradesmen  who  give  short 
[  i8i  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

weight  and  overcharge,  instindively  occur  to  us. 
So  do  mere  pleasure-seekers,  drunkards,  and  idle 
gentlemen.  On  the  same  theory  we  must  exclude 
monks,  deliberate  celibates,  nuns,  and  all  fanati- 
cal or  eccentric  persons  whose  condud  of  life, 
however  serviceable  in  itself  as  a  leaven  or  an 
exception,  could  not  be  generally  imitated  with- 
out disaster  to  society.  It  would  seem  also  as 
though  we  must  exclude  those  who  have  yet  to 
acquire  such  elemental  virtues  of  wise  living  as 
cleanliness,  reverence  for  the  beautiful,  and  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  altruism.  There  is  nothing  to 
learn  as  to  the  wise  use  of  time  from  those  whose 
conceptions  of  life  are  handicapped  by  the  habit- 
ual use  of  slang  and  bad  grammar  and  by  un- 
tidiness ;  who  regard  the  manifestations  of  good 
taste  and  fine  scholarship  as  "frills,"  and  who, 
though  they  be  unselfish  in  the  bosoms  of  their 
families,  take  no  interest  in  the  general  welfare 
of  the  community. 

Let  me  in  this  last  connedion  anticipate  the 
criticism  of  the  sentimentalist  and  of  the  free-born 
American  who  wears  a  chip  on  his  shoulder,  by 
stating  that  time  may  be  as  beautifully  and  wisely 
spent,  and  life  be  as  noble  and  serviceable  to 
humanity  in  the  home  of  the  humblest  citizen 

[  182] 


The    Use    of  Time 


as  in  that  of  the  well-to-do  or  rich.  Of  course  it 
may.  Who  questions  it  ?  Did  I  not,  in  order  not 
even  to  seem  to  doubt  it,  take  back  all  I  hazarded 
about  the  manner  in  which  Rogers  spends  his 
time  ?  It  may  be  just  as  beautifully  and  wisely 
spent,  and  very  often  is  so.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  suggest,  timorously  and  respedfully,  that 
it  very  often  is  not,  and  I  venture  further  to  ask 
whether  the  burden  is  not  on  democracy  to  show 
that  the  plain  life  of  the  plain  people  as  at  pre- 
sent conduded  is  a  valuable  example  of  wise  and 
improving  use  of  time  ?  The  future  is  to  account 
for  itself,  and  we  all  have  faith  in  democracy.  We 
are  all  plain  people  in  this  country.  But  just  as  a 
passing  inquiry,  uttered  not  under  my  breath, 
yet  without  levity  or  malice,  what  is  the  contri- 
bution so  far  made  by  plainness  as  plainness  to 
the  best  progress  of  the  world  ?  Absolutely  noth- 
ing, it  seems  to  me.  Progress  has  come  from  the 
superiority  of  individuals  in  every  class  of  life  to 
the  mass  of  their  contemporaries.  The  so-called 
plainness  of  the  plain  people  too  often  serves  at 
the  present  day  as  an  influence  to  drag  down  the 
aspiring  individual  to  the  dead  level  of  the  mass 
which  contents  itself  with  bombastic  cheapness 
of  thought  and  aftion.  This  is  no  plea  against 

[183] 


The    Art    of  Living 

democracy,  for  democracy  has  come  to  stay  ;  but 
it  is  an  argument  why  the  best  standards  of  liv- 
ing are  more  likely  to  be  found  among  those  who 
do  not  congratulate  themselves  on  their  plain- 
ness than  those  who  are  content  to  live  no  bet- 
ter and  no  worse  than  their  neighbors.  Discontent 
with  self  is  a  valuable  Mentor  in  the  apportion- 
ment of  time. 

Therefore  I  offer  as  the  most  valuable  study 
in  the  use  of  time  under  modern  conditions  the 
men  and  women  in  our  large  cities  who  are  so 
far  evolved  that  they  are  not  tempted  to  commit 
common  crimes,  are  well  educated,  earnest  and 
pleasing,  and  are  keenly  desirous  to  effed  in  their 
daily  lives  that  happy  compromise  between  self- 
interest  and  altruism  to  which  I  have  referred  as 
the  goal  of  success  in  the  use  of  time.  Let  us  con- 
sider them  from  the  point  of  every  day  in  the 
week  and  of  the  four  seasons.  In  every  man's  life 
his  occupation,  the  calling  or  profession  by  which 
he  earns  his  bread,  must  necessarily  be  the  chief 
consumer  of  his  time.  We  Americans  have  never 
been  an  idle  race,  and  it  is  rare  that  the  father  of 
a  family  exposes  himself  to  the  charge  of  sloth. 
His  work  may  be  unintelligent  or  bungling,  but 
he  almost  invariably  spends  rather  too  much  than 

[  184  ] 


The    Use    of  T, 


I 


tme 


too  little  time  over  it.  If  you  ask  him  why,  he 
says  he  cannot  help  it ;  that  in  order  to  get  on 
he  must  toil  early  and  late.  If  he  is  successful, 
he  tells  you  that  otherwise  he  cannot  attend  to 
all  he  has  to  do.  There  is  plausibility  in  this. 
Competition  is  undoubtedly  so  fierce  that  only 
those  who  devote  themselves  heart  and  soul  to 
any  calling  are  likely  to  succeed.  Moreover,  the 
consciousness  of  success  is  so  engrossing  and  in- 
spiriting that  one  may  easily  be  tempted  to  sacri- 
fice everything  else  to  the  game. 

But  can  it  be  doubted,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  man  who  refuses  to  become  the  complete 
slave  either  of  endeavor  or  success  is  a  better 
citizen  than  he  who  does  ?  The  chief  sinners  in 
this  resped:  in  our  modern  life  are  the  successful 
men,  those  who  are  in  the  thick  of  life  doing 
reasonably  well.  The  man  who  has  not  arrived, 
or  who  is  beginning,  must  necessarily  have  lei- 
sure for  other  things  for  the  reason  that  his  time 
is  not  fully  employed,  but  the  really  busy  worker 
must  make  an  effort  or  he  is  lost.  If  he  does  not 
put  his  foot  down  and  determine  what  else  he 
will  do  beside  pursuing  his  vocation  every  day 
in  the  year  except  Sunday,  and  often  on  Sunday 
to  boot,  he  may  be  robust  enough  to  escape  a 

[  185] 


The    Art    of  Living 

premature  grave,  but  he  will  certainly  not  make 
the  best  use  of  his  life. 

The  difficulty  for  such  men,  of  course,  is  to  se- 
led:  what  they  will  do.  There  are  so  many  things, 
that  it  is  easy  to  understand  why  the  mind  which 
abhors  superficiality  should  be  tempted  to  shut 
its  ears  out  of  sheer  desperation  to  every  other 
interest  but  business  or  profession.  If  every  one 
were  to  do  that  what  would  be  the  result  ?  Our 
leading  men  would  simply  be  a  horde  of  self- 
seekers,  in  spite  of  the  fad  that  their  individual 
work  in  their  several  callings  was  conscientious 
and  unsparing  of  self.  Deplorable  as  a  too  great 
multiplicity  of  interests  is  apt  to  be  to  the  wel- 
fare and  advancement  of  an  ambitious  man,  the 
motive  which  prompts  him  to  endeavor  to  do 
many  things  is  in  reality  a  more  noble  one,  and 
one  more  beneficial  to  society  than  absorption 
to  excess  in  a  vocation.  The  cardinal  principle 
/  in  the  wise  use  of  time  is  to  discover  what  one 
can  do  without  and  to  seled  accordingly.  Man's 
duty  to  his  spiritual  nature,  to  his  aesthetic  na- 
ture, to  his  family,  to  public  affairs,  and  to  his 
social  nature, are  no  less  imperative  than  his  duty 
to  his  daily  calling.  Unless  each  of  these  is  in 
some  measure  catered  to,  man  falls  short  in  his 
[  i86] 


T^he    Use    of  Time 


true  obligations.  Not  one  of  them  can  be  ne- 
glected. Some  men  think  they  can  lighten  the 
load  to  advantage  by  disregarding  their  religious 
side.  Others  congratulate  themselves  that  they 
never  read  novels  or  poetry,  and  speak  disre- 
spedfully  of  the  works  of  new  schools  of  art  as 
daubs.  A  still  larger  number  shirks  attention  to 
political  and  social  problems,  and  declares  bluffly 
that  if  a  man  votes  twice  a  year  and  goes  to  a 
caucus,  when  he  is  sent  for  in  a  carriage  by  the 
committee,  it  is  all  that  can  be  expeded  of  a  busy 
man.  Another  large  contingent  swathes  itself  in 
graceless  virtue,  and  professes  to  thank  God  that 
it  keeps  aloof  from  society  people  and  their  do- 
ings. Then  we  are  all  familiar  with  the  man  who 
has  no  time  to  know  his  own  family,  though, 
fortunately,  he  is  less  common  than  he  used  to 
be. 

If  I  were  asked  to  seled  what  one  influence 
more  than  another  wastes  the  spare  time  of  the 
modern  man,  I  should  be  inclined  to  specify  the 
reading  of  newspapers.  The  value  of  the  modern 
daily  newspaper  as  a  short  cut  to  knowledge  of 
what  is  adually  happening  in  two  hemispheres 
is  indisputable,  provided  it  is  read  regularly  so 
that  one  can  eliminate  from  the  consciousness 

.  [  187  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

those  fads  which  are  contradided  or  qualified  on 
the  following  day.  Of  course  it  is  indispensable 
to  read  the  morning,  and  perhaps  the  evening, 
newspaper  in  order  to  know  what  is  going  on 
in  the  world.  But  the  persistent  reading  of  many 
newspapers,  or  the  whole  of  almost  any  news- 
paper, is  nearly  as  detrimental  to  the  economy 
of  time  as  the  cigarette  habit  to  health.  Fifteen 
minutes  a  day  is  ample  time  in  which  to  glean 
the  news,  and  the  busy  man  who  aspires  to  use 
his  time  to  the  best  advantage  may  well  skip  the 
rest.  There  is  no  doubt  that  many  of  our  news- 
papers contain  some  of  the  best  thought  of  the 
day  scattered  through  their  encyclopaedic  col- 
umns; but  there  is  still  less  doubt  that  they  are 
conduded  to  please,  first  of  all,  those  who  other- 
wise would  read  nothing.  From  this  point  of 
view  they  are  most  valuable  educators;  more- 
over, the  charader  of  the  newspaper  is  steadily 
improving,  and  it  is  evident  that  those  in  charge 
of  the  best  of  them  are  seeking  to  raise  the  pub- 
lic taste  instead  of  writing  down  to  it;  but  the 
fad  remains  that  they  at  present  contain  com- 
paratively little  which  the  earnest  man  can  affbrd 
to  linger  over  if  he  would  avoid  mental  dissipa- 
tion of  an  insidious  kind.  A  newspaper  contain- 
[  i88  ] 


T^he    Use    of  Time 


ing  only  the  news  and  the  really  vital  thought  of 
the  day  compressed  into  short  space  is  among  the 
successful  enterprises  of  the  future  which  some 
genius  will  perpetuate.  Howmany  of  us,  already, 
weary  of  the  social  gossip,  the  sensational  per- 
sonalities, the  nauseous  details  of  crime,  the  cus- 
tom-made articles,  the  Sunday  special  features, 
the  ubiquitous  portrait,  and  finally  the  colored 
cartoon,  would  write  our  names  large  on  such  a 
subscription-list ! 

In  the  matter  of  books,  too,  the  modern  man 
and  woman  may  well  exercise  a  determined 
choice.  There  is  so  much  printed  nowadays  be- 
tween ornamental  covers,  that  any  one  is  liable 
to  be  misled  by  sheer  bewilderment,  and  delib- 
erate sele6tion  is  necessary  to  save  us  from  being 
mentally  starved  with  plenty.  We  cannot  always 
be  reading  to  acquire  positive  knowledge;  enter- 
tainment and  self-oblivion  are  quite  as  legitimate 
motives  for  the  hard  worker  as  meditated  self- 
improvement;  but  whether  we  read  philosophy 
and  history,  or  the  novel,  the  poem,  and  the 
essay,  it  behooves  us  to  read  the  best  of  its  kind. 
From  this  standpoint  the  average  book  club  is 
almost  a  positive  curse.  A  weekly  quota  of  books 
appears  on  our  library  tables,  to  be  devoured  in 

[  189] 


The    Art    of  Living 

seven  days.  We  read  them  because  they  come 
to  us  by  lot,  not  because  we  have  chosen  them 
ourselves.  There  is  published  in  every  year  of 
this  publishing  age  a  certain  number  of  books 
of  positive  merit  in  the  various  departments  of 
literature  and  thought,  which  a  little  intelligent 
inquiry  would  enable  us  to  discover.  By  reading 
fewer  books,  and  making  sure  that  the  serious 
ones  were  sound  and  the  light  or  clever  ones 
really  diverting,  the  modern  man  and  woman 
would  be  gainers  both  in  time  and  approbation. 
I  n  this  conneftion  let  me  head  off  again  the  sen- 
timentalist and  moralist  by  noting  that  old  friends 
in  literature  are  often  more  satisfying  and  enga- 
ging than  new.  Those  of  us  who  are  in  the  thick 
of  life  are  too  apt  to  forget  to  take  down  from 
our  shelves  the  comrades  we  loved  when  we 
were  twenty-one — the  essayists,  the  historians, 
the  poets,  and  novelists  whose  delightful  pages 
are  the  literature  of  the  world.  An  evening  at 
home  with  Shakespeare  is  not  the  depressing 
experience  which  some  clever  people  imagine. 
One  rises  from  the  feast  to  go  to  bed  with  all 
one's  aesthetic  being  refreshed  and  fortified  as 
though  one  had  inhaled  oxygen.  What  a  con- 
trast this  to  the  stuffy  taste  in  the  roof  of  the 
[  190  ] 


The    Use    of  Time 


mouth,  and  the  weary,  dejeded  frame  of  mind 
which  follow  the  perusal  of  much  of  the  current 
literature  which  cozening  booksellers  have  in- 
duced the  book  club  secretary  to  buy. 

A  very  little  newspaper  reading  and  a  limited 
amount  of  seleded  reading  will  leave  time  for 
the  hobby  or  avocation.  Every  man  or  woman 
ought  to  have  one;  something  apart  from  busi- 
ness, profession,  or  housekeeping,  in  which  he 
or  she  is  interested  as  a  study  or  pursuit.  In  this 
age  of  the  world  it  may  well  take  the  form  of 
educational,  economic,  or  philanthropic  investi- 
gation, or  co-operation,  if  individual  tastes  hap- 
pen to  incline  one  to  such  work.  The  prominence 
of  such  matters  in  our  present  civilization  is,  of 
course,  a  magnet  favorable  to  such  a  choice.  In 
this  way  one  can,  as  it  were,  kill  two  birds  with 
one  stone,  develop  one's  own  resources  and  per- 
form one's  duty  toward  the  public.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  will  be  many  who  have  no 
sense  of  fitness  for  this  service,  and  whose  pre- 
dilections lead  them  toward  art,  science,  litera- 
ture, or  some  of  their  ramifications.  The  amateur 
photographer,  the  extender  of  books,  the  ob- 
server of  birds,  are  alike  among  the  faithful.  To 
have  one  hobby  and  not  three  or  four,  and  to  per- 

[  191  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

severe  slowly  but  steadily  in  the  fulfilment  of 
one's  selection,  is  an  important  faftor  in  the  wise 
disposal  of  time.  It  is  a  truism  to  declare  that  a 
few  minutes  in  every  day  allotted  to  the  same 
piece  of  work  will  accomplish  wonders ;  but  the 
result  of  trying  will  convince  the  incredulous. 
Indeed  one's  avocation  should  progress  and  pre- 
vail by  force  of  spare  minutes  allotted  daily  and 
continuously;  just  so  much  and  no  more,  so  as 
not  to  crowd  out  the  other  claimants  for  con- 
sideration. Fifteen  minutes  before  breakfast,  or 
between  kissing  the  children  good-night  and  the 
evening  meal,  or  even  every  other  Saturday  af- 
ternoon and  a  part  of  every  holiday,  will  make 
one's  hobby  look  well-fed  and  sleek  at  the  end 
of  a  few  years. 

Perhaps  the  most  difficult  side  of  one's  nature 
to  provide  for  adequately  is  the  social  side.  It  is 
easy  enough  to  make  a  hermit  of  one's  self  and 
go  nowhere;  and  it  is  easy  enough  to  let  one's 
self  be  sucked  into  the  vortex  of  endless  social 
recreation  until  one's  sensations  become  akin  to 
those  of  a  highly  varnished  humming-top.  I  am 
not  quite  sure  which  is  the  worse;  but  I  am  in- 
clined to  believe  that  the  hermit,  especially  if 
self-righteous,  is  more  detestable  in  that  he  is 
[   192  ] 


"The    Use    of  Time 


less  altruistic.  He  may  be  a  more  superior  person 
than  the  gadfly  of  society,  but  ethics  no  longer 
sandions  self-cultivation  purely  for  the  benefit 
of  self.  Every  man  and  woman  who  seeks  to  play 
an  intelligent  part  in  the  world  ought  to  manage 
to  dine  out  and  attend  other  social  fundions 
every  now  and  then,  even  if  it  be  necessary  to 
bid  for  invitations.  Most  of  us  have  more  invi- 
tations than  we  can  possibly  accept,  and  find  the 
problem  of  entertaining  and  being  entertained  an 
exceedingly  perplexing  one  to  solve  from  the 
standpoint  of  time.  But  in  spite  of  the  social 
proclivities  of  most  of  us,  there  are  still  many 
people  who  feel  that  they  are  fulfilling  their  com- 
plete duty  as  members  of  society  if  they  live 
lives  of  strid  reditude  far  from  the  madding 
crowd  of  so-called  society  people,  and  never 
darken  the  doors  of  anybody.  It  is  said  that  it 
takes  all  sorts  of  people  to  make  up  the  world, 
but  disciplinarians  and  spoil-sports  of  this  sort 
are  so  tiresome  that  they  would  not  be  missed 
were  they  and  their  homilies  to  be  translated  pre- 
maturely to  another  sphere. 

Those  of  us,  however,  who  profess  a  contrary 
faith,  experience  difficulty  at  times  in  being  true 
to  it,  and  are  often  tempted  to  slip  back  into  do- 


"The    Art    of  Living 

mestic  isolation  by  the  feverishness  of  our  social 
life.  It  sometimes  seems  as  though  there  were  no 
middle  way  between  being  a  humming-top  and  a 
hermit.  Yet  nothing  is  more  fatal  to  the  wise  use 
of  time  than  the  acceptance  of  every  invitation 
received,  unless  it  be  the  refusal  of  every  one. 
Here  again  moderation  and  choice  are  the  only 
safeguards,  in  spite  of  the  assurance  of  friends 
that  it  is  necessary  to  go  a  great  deal  in  order  to 
enjoy  one's  self  In  our  cities  the  bulk  of  the  en- 
tertainments of  the  year  happen  in  the  four  win- 
ter months;  from  which  many  far  from  frivolous 
persons  argue  that  the  only  way  is  to  dine  out 
every  night,  and  go  to  everything  to  which  one 
is  asked  during  this  period,  and  make  up  be- 
tween April  15th  and  December  15th  for  any 
arrears  due  the  other  demands  of  one's  nature. 
This  is  plausible,  but  a  dangerous  theory,  if  car- 
ried to  excess.  Wise  living  consists  in  living 
wisely  from  day  to  day,  without  excepting  any 
season.  Three  evenings  in  a  week  spent  away 
from  one's  own  fireside  may  not  be  an  easy  limit 
for  some  whose  social  interests  are  varied,  but 
both  the  married  and  the  single  who  regret  po- 
litely in  order  to  remain  tranquilly  at  home  four 
evenings  out  of  seven,  need  not  fear  that  they 
[  194  ] 


The    Use    of  Time 


have  neglefted  the  social  side  of  life  even  in  the 
gayest  of  seasons. 

And  here,  for  the  sake  of  our  sometimes  dense 
friend  the  moralist — especially  the  moralist  of 
the  press,  who  raves  against  society  people  from 
the  virtuous  limit  of  an  occasional  afternoon  tea 
— let  me  add  that  by  entertainments  and  recrea- 
tion I  intend  to  include  not  merely  formal  balls 
and  dinner-parties,  but  all  the  forms  of  more  or 
less  innocent  edification  and  diversion — teas, 
reform  meetings,  theatres,  receptions,  concerts, 
lectures,  clubs,  sociables,  fairs,  and  tableaux,  by 
which  people  all  over  the  country  are  brought 
together  to  exchange  ideas  and  opinions  in  good- 
humored  fellowship. 

In  the  apportionment  of  time  the  considera- 
tion of  one's  physical  health  is  a  paramount  ne- 
cessity, not  merely  for  a  reasonably  long  life,  but 
to  temper  the  mind's  eye  so  that  the  point  of 
view  remain  sane  and  wholesome.  An  over- 
wrought nervous  system  may  be  capable  of  spas- 
modic spurts,  but  sustained  useful  work  is  im- 
possible under  such  conditions.  To  die  in  harness 
before  one's  time  may  be  fine,  and  in  exceptional 
cases  unavoidable,  but  how  much  better  to  live 
in  harness  and  do  the  work  which  one  has  un- 

[  ^9S^ 


The    Art    of  Living 

dertaken  without  breaking  down.  Happily  the 
young  men  and  women  of  the  country  of  the 
present  generation  may  almost  be  said  to  have 
athletics  and  fresh  air  on  the  brain.  What  with 
opportunity  and  precept  they  can  scarcely  help 
living  up  to  the  mark  in  this  resped:.  The  grown- 
up men  and  women,  absorbed  in  the  struggle  of 
life,  are  the  people  who  need  to  keep  a  watchful 
eye  upon  themselves.  It  is  so  easy  to  let  the 
hour's  fresh  air  and  exercise  be  crowded  out  by 
the  things  which  one  feels  bound  to  do  for  the 
sake  of  others,  and  hence  for  one's  immortal  soul. 
We  argue  that  it  will  not  matter  if  we  omit  our 
walk  or  rest  for  a  day  or  two,  and  so  we  go  on 
from  day  to  day,  until  we  are  brought  up  with 
a  round  turn,  as  the  saying  is,  and  realize,  in  case 
we  are  still  alive,  that  we  are  chronic  invalids. 
The  walk,  the  ride,  the  drive,  the  yacht,  the  bi- 
cycle, the  search  for  wild  flowers  and  birds,  the 
angler's  outing,  the  excursion  with  a  camera, 
the  deliberate  open-air  breathing  spell  on  the 
front  platform  of  a  street-car,  some  one  of  these 
is  within  the  means  and  opportunities  of  every 
busy  worker,  male  and  female. 

For  many  of  us  the  most  begrudged  under- 
taking of  all  is  to  find  time  for  what  we  owe  to 


The    Use    of   Time 


the  world  at  large  or  the  State,  the  State  with  a 
capital  S,  as  it  is  written  nowadays.  There  is  no 
money  in  such  bestowals,  no  private  gain  or  emol- 
ument. What  we  give  we  give  as  a  tribute  to  pure 
altruism,  or,  in  other  words,  because  as  men  and 
women  we  feel  that  it  is  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant elements  in  wise  living.  It  is  indisputable 
that  there  was  never  so  much  disinterested  en- 
deavor in  behalf  of  the  community  at  large  as 
there  is  to-day,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  true 
that  the  agitations  and  work  are  accomplished  by 
a  comparatively  small  number  of  people.  There 
are  probably  among  the  intelligent,  aspiring  por- 
tion of  the  population  at  least  five  persons  who 
intend  to  interest  themselves  in  public  affairs,  and 
regard  doing  so  as  essential  to  a  useful  life,  to 
every  one  who  puts  his  theories  into  praftice. 
No  man  or  woman  can  do  everything.  We  can- 
not as  individuals  at  one  and  the  same  time  busy 
ourselves  successfully  in  education,  philanthropy, 
political  reform,  and  economic  science.  But  if 
every  one  would  take  an  adive,  earnest  concern 
in  something,  in  some  one  thing,  and  look  into 
it  slowly  but  thoroughly,  this  man  or  woman  in 
the  public  schools,  this  in  the  methods  of  mu- 
nicipal government,  and  this  in  the  problems  of 
[  197  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

crime  or  poverty,  reforms  would  necessarily  pro- 
ceed much  faster.  Just  a  little  work  every  other 
day  or  every  week.  Let  it  be  your  hobby  if  you 
will,  if  you  have  no  time  for  a  hobby  too.  If  five 
thousand  men  in  every  large  city  should  take  an 
adive  interest  in  and  give  a  small  amount  of  time 
in  every  week  to  the  school  question,  we  should 
soon  have  excellent  public  schools ;  if  another  five 
thousand  would  devote  themselves  to  the  aflfairs 
of  municipal  government  in  a  similar  fashion, 
would  there  be  so  much  corruption  as  at  pre- 
sent, and  would  so  inferior  a  class  of  citizens  be 
chosen  to  be  aldermen  and  to  fill  the  other  city 
offices  ?  And  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  Is 
not  something  of  the  kind  the  duty  of  every  earn- 
est man  and  woman  ?  Let  those  who  boast  of  be- 
ing plain  people  put  this  into  their  pipes  and 
smoke  it.  When  the  self-styled  working-classes 
are  prohibited  by  law  from  working  more  than 
eight  hours,  will  they  contribute  of  their  spare 
time  to  help  those  who  are  trying  to  help 
them? 

American  men  have  the  reputation  of  being 
considerate  husbands  and  indulgent  fathers  ;  but 
they  have  been  apt  at  all  events,  until  recently, 
to  make  permission  to  spend  take  the  place  of 

[  198  ] 


The    Use    of  "Time 


personal  comradeship.  This  has  been  involun- 
tarily and  regretfully  ascribed  to  business  pres- 
sure ;  but  fatalistic  remorse  is  a  poor  substitute 
for  duty,  even  though  the  loved  ones  eat  off  gold 
plate  and  ride  in  their  own  carriages  as  a  conse- 
quence. We  Americans  who  have  begotten  chil- 
dren in  the  last  twenty  years  do  not  need  to  be 
informed  that  the  time  given  to  the  society  of 
one's  wife  and  family  is  the  most  precious  expen- 
diture of  all,  both  for  their  sakes  and  our  own. 
But  though  the  truth  is  obvious  to  us,  are  we  not 
sometimes  conscious  at  the  end  of  the  week  that 
the  time  due  us  and  them  has  been  squandered 
or  otherwise  appropriated?  Those  walks  and 
talks,  those  pleasant  excursions  from  city  to 
country,  or  country  to  city,  those  quiet  after- 
noons or  evenings  at  home,  which  are  possible 
to  every  man  and  woman  who  love  each  other 
and  their  children,  are  among  the  most  valuable 
aids  to  wise  living  and  peace  of  mind  which  daily 
existence  affords.  Intimacy  and  warm  sympathy, 
precept  and  loving  companionship,  are  worth  all 
the  indulgent  permission  and  unexpefted  cheques 
in  the  world.  Some  people,  when  Sunday  or  a 
holiday  comes,  seem  to  do  their  best  to  get  rid 
of  their  families  and  to  try  to  amuse  themselves 
[  199  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

apart  from  them.  Such  men  and  women  are  shut- 
ting out  from  their  lives  the  purest  oxygen  which 
civilization  affords  ;  for  genuine  comradeship  of 
husband  and  wife,  and  father  or  mother  and  child, 
purges  the  soul  and  tends  to  clear  the  mind's  eye 
more  truly  than  any  other  influence. 

Lastly  and  firstly,  and  in  close  compad  with 
sweet  domesticity  and  faithful  friendship,  stand 
the  spiritual  demands  of  our  natures.  We  must 
have  time  to  think  and  meditate.  Just  as  the  flow- 
ers need  the  darkness  and  the  refreshing  dew,  the 
human  soul  requires  its  quiet  hours,  its  season 
for  meditation  and  rest.  Whatever  we  may  be- 
lieve, whatever  doubts  we  may  entertain  regard- 
ing the  mysteries  of  the  universe,  who  will  main- 
tain that  the  aspiring  side  of  man  is  a  delusion 
and  an  unreality?  In  the  time — often  merely 
minutes — which  we  give  to  contemplation  and 
serious  review  of  what  we  are  doing,  lies  the  se- 
cret of  the  wise  plan,  if  not  the  execution.  To  go 
on  helter-skelter  from  day  to  day  without  a  pur- 
pose in  our  hearts  resembles  playing  a  hurdy- 
gurdy  for  a  living  without  the  hope  of  pence. 
The  use  of  Sunday  in  this  country  has  changed 
so  radically  in  the  last  twenty-five  years  that 
every  one  is  free  to  spend  it  as  he  will,  subjed 
[  200  ] 


The    Use    of   Time 


to  certain  restridions  as  to  sport  and  entertain- 
ment in  public  calculated  to  offend  those  who 
would  prefer  striker  usages.  But  whether  we 
choose  to  go  to  church  or  not,  whether  our  as- 
pirations are  fostered  in  the  sanduary  or  the  fresh 
air,  the  eternal  needs  of  the  soul  must  be  pro- 
vided for.  If  we  give  our  spare  hours  and  min- 
utes merely  to  careless  amusement,  we  cannot 
fail  to  degenerate  in  nobility  of  nature,  just  as 
we  lose  the  hue  of  health  when  we  sully  the  red 
corpuscles  of  the  body  with  foul  air  and  steam 
heat.  Are  we  not  nowadays,  even  the  plain  peo- 
ple, God  bless  them,  too  much  disposed  to  be- 
lieve that  merely  to  be  comfortable  and  amused 
and  rested  is  the  sole  requirement  of  the  human 
soul  ?  It  does  need  rest  most  of  the  time  in  this 
age  of  pressure.  Heaven  knows,  and  comfort  and 
amusement  are  necessary.  But  may  we  not,  even 
while  we  rest  and  are  comfortable,  under  the  blue 
sky  or  on  the  peaceful  river,  if  you  will,  lift  up 
our  spirits  to  the  mystery  of  the  ages,  and  reach 
out  once  more  toward  the  eternal  truths?  Merely 
to  be  comfortable  and  to  get  rested  once  a  week 
will  not  bring  those  truths  nearer.  May  we  not, 
in  the  pride  of  our  democracy,  afford  to  turn  our 
glances  back  to  the  pages  of  history,  to  the  long 
[  20I   ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

line  of  mighty  men  kneeling  before  the  altar  with 
their  eyes  turned  up  to  God,  and  the  prayer  of 
faith  and  repentance  on  their  lips  ?  Did  this  all 
mean  nothing  ?  Are  we  so  wise  and  certain  and 
far-seeing  that  we  need  not  do  likewise  ? 


[  202  ] 


The  Summer  Problem. 
I. 

^^^P^P^pHAT  is  the  good  American  to 
^L  ^  Y"  T  (^  dowithhimself  or  herself  in  sum- 

#^^  VV  H^*  ^^^ ^  T\iQ  busiest  worker  now- 
^w  adays  admits  that  a  vacation  of  a 
^P  ^P  ^^  ^P  fortnight  in  hot  weather  is  at  least 
desirable.  Philanthropy  sends  yearly  more  and 
more  children  on  an  outing  in  August,  as  one  of 
the  best  contributions  to  the  happiness  and  wel- 
fare of  the  poor.  The  atmosphere  of  our  large 
cities  in  midsummer  is  so  lifeless  and  oppressive 
that  every  one  who  can  get  away  for  some  part 
of  the  summer  plans  to  do  so,  and  fathers  of 
families  find  themselves  annually  confronted  by 
a  serious  problem. 

I  specify  the  father  of  a  family  because  the 
problem  is  so  much  easier  for  a  single  man.  The 
single  man,  and  generally  the  single  woman,  can 
pack  a  bag  and  go  to  the  beach  or  mountains,  or 
to  a  hotel  within  easy  distance  from  town,  with- 
out much  premeditation.  The  worst  that  can  hap- 
pen to  them  is  that  they  may  become  engaged 
without  intention  ;  besides  they  can  always  come 
home  if  they  are  dissatisfied  with  their  surround- 
[  203  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ings.  But  the  family  man  who  lives  in  a  large 
city  finds  more  and  more  difficulty  every  year, 
as  the  country  increases  in  population,  in  mak- 
ing up  his  mind  how  best  to  provide  for  the 
midsummer  necessities  of  his  wife  and  children. 
There  are  several  courses  of  adion  open  to 
him. 

He  can  remain  in  town  and  keep  his  family 
there. 

He  can  remain  in  town  himself  and  send  his 
family  to  a  distance. 

He  can  hire  a  house  or  lodgings  by  the  sea  or 
in  the  country  within  easy  reach  of  town  by  rail- 
road or  steamboat. 

He  can  send  his  family  to  a  summer  hotel  at  a 
distance,  or  take  a  house  or  lodgings  at  a  dis- 
tance, making  occasional  flying  trips  to  and  from 
town,  according  to  his  opportunities. 

To  stay  in  town  and  keep  one's  family  there 
is  a  far  from  disagreeable  experience  except  in 
very  large  cities  in  unusually  hot  weather.  The 
custom  of  going  away  from  home  in  summer  is 
one  which  has  grown  by  force  of  imitation.  The 
inclination  to  change  one's  surroundings,  and  to  | 
give  the  wife  and  children  a  whiff  of  country  or 
sea  or  mountain  air  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  course 
[  204  ] 


-se  I 

J 


The    Summer    Problem 

of  the  year  is  an  ambition  which  is  neither  god- 
less nor  extravagant.  But  it  is  not  worth  while 
to  set  this  necessity  up  as  an  idol  to  be  wor- 
shipped at  the  expense  of  comfort  for  the  rest  of 
the  year,  for,  after  all,  our  ancestors  successfully 
reared  large  families  of  children,  including  some 
of  us,  without  going  away  from  home  in  the  sum- 
mer, and  "the-can't-get-aways"  in  our  largest 
and  most  uncomfortable  cities  still  outnumber 
those  who  can  and  do  in  the  proportion  of  at 
least  five  to  one.  It  costs  more  to  go  away  than 
to  stay  in  town ;  from  which  certain  native  philo- 
sophers, who  maintain  that  any  one  who  spends 
more  than  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  on  his 
family  in  any  one  year  is  not  a  good  American, 
may  argue  that  those  who  have  both  a  summer 
and  a  winter  home  are  aristocrats  and  material- 
ists. Their  argument  is  not  likely  to  diminish 
summer  travel,  to  bankrupt  the  summer  hotels, 
or  to  induce  the  well-to-do  American  citizen  to 
shut  up  his  cottage.  A  change  in  summer,  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  period,  is  generally  recognized 
as  one  of  the  most  healthful  and  improving  ad- 
vantages which  a  father  in  our  civilization  can 
give  his  family  and  himself  On  the  other  hand, 
to  go  out  of  town  simply  because  one's  neigh- 

[  20S  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

bors  do,  when  one  cannot  afford  It,  is  a  pitiful 
performance. 

Moreover,  the  man  who  does  not  send  his 
family  out  of  town  from  motives  of  economy, 
has  more  than  a  clean  conscience  to  comfort  him. 
He  can  remember  that  probably  one-third  of 
the  annual  experiments  in  summer  culture  and 
health-giving  recreation,  made  by  his  friends 
and  acquaintance,  turn  out  dire  failures,  and 
that  another  one-third  result  in  mixed  joy  and 
comfort.  He  can  refledt  too,  if  he  lives  in  the 
suburbs  of  a  city,  or  in  a  town  or  small  city,  that, 
barring  a  few  exceptionally  hot  days,  he  and  his 
family  are  really  very  comfortable  at  home.  Even 
if  his  household  gods  are  in  a  parboiled  metropo- 
lis, he  will  commonly  be  able  to  relieve  his  te- 
dium and  physical  discomfort  by  some  form  of 
excursion.  All  our  seaboard  cities  have  their  mid- 
summer Meccas  for  the  multitude  in  the  form 
of  beaches;  and  even  where  no  ocean  breezes 
blow,  there  is  usually  close  at  hand  verdure,  a 
lake,  a  grove,  or  a  river  where  the  philosophical 
soul  can  forget  the  thermometer,  and  cease  to 
commiserate  with  itself  on  being  kept  in  town. 
One's  own  bed  is  never  humpy,  and  the  hollows 
in  it  are  just  fitted  to  one's  bones  or  adipose  de- 
[  206  ] 


The    Summer    Problem 

velopments.  One  can  eat  and  drink  in  one's 
town-house  without  fear  of  indigestion  or  germs. 
Decidedly  the  happiness  of  staying  at  home  is 
not  much  less  than  the  happiness  of  passing  one, 
two,  or  three  months  at  a  place  where  everything 
is  uncomfortable  or  nasty,  at  a  cost  which  one 
can  ill  afford,  if  at  all.  Good  city  milk  and  succu- 
lent city  vegetables  are  luxuries  which  are  rarely 
to  be  found  at  the  ordinary  summer  resort. 

It  is  difficult  to  convince  one's  family  of  this 
in  advance.  Besides,  man  is  always  to  be  blessed. 
We  are  always  hoping  that  the  next  summer  will 
be  a  grand  improvement  on  those  which  have 
gone  before,  and  generally  by  the  first  of  May  we 
believe,  or  at  least  imagine,  that  we  have  discov- 
ered the  genuine  article — the  ideal  spot  at  last. 
Discovered  it  for  our  families.  The  American 
father  has  the  trick  of  sending  his  family  out  of 
town  for  the  summer,  and  staying  at  home  him- 
self This  had  its  origin  probably  in  his  sup- 
posed inability  to  escape  from  business  in  the 
teeth  of  the  family  craving  to  see  something  of 
the  world  outside  of  their  own  social  acquain- 
tance. Yet  he  acknowledged  the  force  of  the  fam- 
ily argument  that  with  such  a  large  country  to 
explore  it  would  be  a  pity  not  to  explore  it;  and 
[  207  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

accordingly  he  said,  "Go,  and  I  will  join  you  if 
and  when  I  can."  Paterfamilias  said  this  long 
ago,  and  in  some  instances  he  has  vainly  been 
trying  to  join  them  ever  since.  There  are  all 
sorts  of  trying  in  this  world,  and  perhaps  his  has 
not  been  as  determined  as  some;  nevertheless, 
he  has  maintained  tolerably  well  the  reputation 
of  trying.  The  Saturday  night  trains  and  steam- 
boats all  over  the  country  are  vehicles,  from 
July  first  to  October  first,  of  an  army  of  fathers 
who  are  trying  successfully  to  join  their  nearest 
and  dearest  at  the  different  summer-resorts  of 
the  land. 

To  be  separated  for  three  months  from  one's 
wife  and  children,  except  for  a  day  or  two  once  a 
fortnight,  is  scarcely  an  ideal  domestic  arrange- 
ment, in  spite  of  the  fad  that  it  is  more  or  less 
delightful  for  the  dear  ones  to  meet  new  people 
and  see  new  scenes.  The  American  father  may 
not  try  very  hard  to  leave  his  city  home,  but  it 
must  be  admitted  that  he  has  been  an  amiable 
biped  on  the  score  of  the  summer  question.  He 
has  been  and  is  ready  to  suffer  silently  for  the 
sake  of  his  family  and  his  business.  But  now  that 
he  has  made  up  his  mind  at  last  that  he  prefers  to 
leave  his  business  for  the  sake  of  his  family  and 
[  208  ] 


I 


The    Summer    Problem 

his  own  health,  the  difficulties  of  sending  them  to 
a  distance  are  more  apparent  to  him.  Ten  or  fif- 
teen years  ago  it  dawned  upon  him  that  the  city 
in  summer  without  his  family  was  not  the  ideal 
spot  his  fancy  had  painted,  and  that  the  sea-side 
and  country,  especially  the  former,  were,  after  all, 
the  best  place  for  an  over-worked,  full-grown 
man  on  a  summer's  afternoon.  It  dawned  upon 
him,  too,  that  there  was  sea-coast  and  country 
close  at  hand  where  he  could  establish  his  family 
and  refresh  himself  at  the  end  of  every  day's 
work.  Twenty-five  years  ago  the  marine  and  at- 
tradive  suburban  environs  of  our  cities  were 
substantially  unappropriated.  To-day  they  bris- 
tle with  cottages,  large  and  small,  the  summer 
homes  of  city  men.  Every  available  promontory, 
island,  hill,  nook,  and  crook,  which  commands 
a  pleasing  view  or  is  visited  by  cooling  breezes 
is,  or  soon  will  be,  occupied.  What  can  a  busy 
man  do  better,  if  he  can  afford  it,  than  buy  or 
hire  a  cottage,  as  humble  as  you  like,  to  which 
he  can  return  in  the  afternoon  to  the  bosom  of 
his  own  family,  and  be  comfortable  and  lazy  un- 
til morning? 

From  the  domestic  point  of  view  this  is  assur- 
edly the  most  satisfaftory  arrangement  for  the 
[  209  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

fatherland  the  American  paterfamilias, ever  since 
the  truth  dawned  upon  him,  has  been  prompt  in 
recognizing  the  fad:.  He  has  builded,  too,  ac- 
cording to  his  taste,  whim,  and  individual  idio- 
syncrasies. A  sea-side  cottage  within  easy  reach 
of  town  includes,  to-day,  every  variety  of  shelter 
from  g  piduresque  villa  of  the  most  super-civil- 
ized type  to  the  hulk  of  a  ship  fitted  up  as  a 
camping-out  home.  To  a  large  extent,  too,  the 
hotel  has  been  discarded  in  favor  of  the  domestic 
hearth,  even  though  the  single  chimney  smokes 
so  that  tears  are  perpetually  in  the  domestic  eye. 
The  well-to-do  city  man  who  comes  to  town 
every  day  appreciates  that  a  hotel  is  a  poor  place 
for  children;  consequently  the  long  piazzas, 
where  the  terrible  infant  forever  used  to  abound, 
are  now  trodden  chiefly  by  visitors  from  a  dis- 
tance arid  transients  who  have  escaped  from  the 
city  for  a  day  in  search  of  a  sea-bath  and  a  clam 
chowder. 

If  the  summer  cottage  to  which  the  husband 
returns  at  night,  is  not  the  most  satisfadory  ar- 
rangement for  the  mother,  she  must  blame  her- 
self or  the  civilization  in  which  she  lives.  The 
sole  argument  in  favor  of  passing  the  summer 
at  a  hotel  is  that  the  wife  and  mother  escapes 
[  2IO  ] 


I 


"The    Summer    Proble 


m 


thereby  the  cares  of  housekeeping,  too  often  so 
severe  during  the  rest  of  the  year  that  the  pros- 
ped:  of  not  being  obliged  to  order  dinner  for 
three  months  causes  her  to  wake  in  the  night 
and  laugh  hysterically.  Formality  and  conven- 
tional ceremony  are  the  lurking  enemies  of  our 
American  summer  life,  who  threaten  to  deprive 
our  mothers  and  daughters  of  the  rest  and  vaca- 
tion from  the  tension,  excitement,  and  worry 
begotten  by  nine  months  of  adlive  domestic  du- 
ties. Simplicity  of  living  ought  to  be  the  control- 
ling warm-weather  maxim  of  every  household 
where  the  woman  at  the  head  of  the  establish- 
ment does  the  housekeeping,  as  nine  thousand 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  women  out  of  ten 
thousand  in  America  do. 

It  may  be  argued  that  greater  simplicity  in 
living  all  the  year  round  would  enable  the  wife 
and  mother  to  do  without  a  vacation.  Possibly. 
But  unfortunately  for  her  the  trend  of  the  tide 
is  all  the  other  way.  Besides,  simplicity  is  such 
a  difficult  word  to  conjure  with.  Her  interests 
have  become  so  varied  that  the  wear  and  tear  is 
quite  as  likely  to  proceed  from  new  mental  striv- 
ings as  from  a  multiplicity  of  sheer  domestic 
duties.  At  least  there  seems  to  be  no  immediate 


The    Art    of  Living 

prosped:  that  she  will  be  less  tired  in  the  spring, 
however  exemplary  her  intentions,  and  it  there- 
fore behooves  her  not  to  allow  the  wave  of  in- 
creasing luxury  to  bear  her  on  its  crest  through 
the  summer  and  land  her  in  her  town-house  in 
Oftober  a  physical  and  mental  wreck. 

The  external  attradiveness  of  the  modern 
summer  cottage,  with  its  pleasing  angles  and 
comely  stains,  is  easily  made  an  excuse  for  an 
artistic  interior  and  surroundings  to  match.  But 
artistic  beauty  in  summer  can  readily  be  pro- 
duced without  elaboration,  and  at  comparatively 
slight  cost,  if  we  only  choose  to  be  content  with 
simple  efFefts.  The  bewitching  charm  of  the  sum- 
mer girl,  if  analyzed,  proves  to  be  based  on  a 
few  cents  a  yard  and  a  happy  knack  of  combin- 
ing colors  and  trifles.  Why  need  we  be  solicitous 
to  have  all  the  paraphernalia  of  winter-life — 
meals  with  many  courses,  a  retinue  of  servants, 
wines,  festal  attire,  and  splendid  entertainments  ? 
While  we  rejoice  that  the  promiscuous  comrade- 
ship of  hotel  life  has  largely  given  place  at  New- 
port, Bar  Harbor,  Lenox,  and  our  other  fashion- 
able watering-places  to  the  pleasant  proteftion 
of  the  cottage  home,  is  it  not  seriously  deplorable 
that  simplicity  is  too  often  lost  sight  of?  To  be 

[    212    ] 


The    Summer    Proble 


m 


comfortable  is  one  thing,  to  be  swathed  in  luxury 
or  to  be  tortured  by  ceremony  all  the  time  is  an- 
other. It  seems  strange  to  many  of  us,  who  cannot 
choose  precisely  what  we  will  do  and  where  we  will 
go  in  summer,  that  those  who  can  so  often  seled  a 
mere  repetition  of  mid-winter  social  recreation. 

There  is  Patterson  the  banker  for  instance,  the 
employer  of  Rogers.  He  can  go  where  he  pleases, 
and  he  goes  to  Newport.  One  can  see  him  any 
afternoon  driving  augustly  on  Bellevue  Avenue 
or  along  the  ocean  drive,  well  gloved,  well  shod, 
and  brilliantly  necktied,  in  his  landau  beside  Mrs. 
Patterson.  They  have  been  to  Newport  for  years 
in  summer,  and  their  house,  with  its  beautiful  out- 
look to  sea,  has  doubled  and  trebled  in  value.  H  ow 
do  they  pass  their  time.^  Entertain  and  let  them- 
selves be  entertained.  Dinners  with  formal  co- 
mestibles, late  dances,  champagne  luncheons,^^/<? 
defoisgras  picnics  on  a  coach  are  their  daily  asso- 
ciations. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Patterson  are  close  upon 
sixty  themselves,  but  they  follow — a  little  more 
solemnly  than  formerly,  but  still  without  stint — 
the  same  programme,  which  grows  more  and  more 
elaborate  with  each  succeeding  year.  It  was  there 
that  their  youngest  daughter  was  married  six 
months  ago,  with  widely  heralded  splendor,  to  a 

[  213  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

Russian  nobleman  who  speaks  beautiful  English. 
May  her  lot  be  a  happy  one !  The  son,  who  went 
through  the  Keeley  cure,  and  the  elder  daughter, 
who  is  separated  from  her  husband,  have  spent 
their  summers  at  Newport  from  their  youth  up. 

There  are  comparatively  few  who  have  the 
means  to  live,  or  who  do  live  just  like  Patterson, 
but  there  is  many  a  man  of  fine  instinds  and  with 
a  sufficient  income  to  maintain  a  summer  home, 
who  finds  himself  to-day  oppressed  by  the  incu- 
bus of  things.  He  seeks  rest,  books,  fresh  air, 
the  opportunity  to  enjoy  nature — the  sea,  the 
foliage,  the  flowers — and  yet  he  is  harassed  by 
things,  the  very  things  he  has  all  winter,  with  a 
garnishment  suitable  to  hot  weather.  He  wishes 
to  be  still ;  and  things  keep  him  moving.  He 
yearns  to  strip  off,  if  not  all  his  clothing,  at  least 
enough  of  it  to  give  his  lungs  and  his  soul  full 
play ;  but  things  keep  him  faultlessly  dressed. 
He  intends  to  slake  his  thirst  only  from  the  old 
oaken  bucket  or  the  milk-pail,  and  things  keep 
his  palate  titillated  with  champagne  and  cock- 
tails. Our  old-time  simplicity  in  summer  is  per- 
haps no  longer  possible  in  the  large  watering- 
places.  It  is  even  with  considerable  satisfaction 
that  we  don,  and  see  our  wives  and  children  don, 
[  214  ] 


"The    Summer    Problem 

the  attradllve  clothing  which  has  taken  the  place 
of  shirt-sleeves  and  flannel  shirts  as  articles  of 
toilette  ;  but  is  it  not  time  to  cry  halt  in  our  pro- 
cession toward  luxury,  if  we  do  not  wish  to  live 
on  our  nerves  all  the  year  round  ? 

It  is  this  difficulty  in  escaping  the  expenses 
and  the  formality  of  city  life  in  the  summer  cot- 
tage or  at  the  summer  hotel,  almost  as  much  as 
the  fad:  that  the  desirable  locations  near  town 
have  all  been  taken,  which  is  inclining  the  Ameri- 
can father  to  send  his  family  to  a  distance.  After 
twenty-five  years  of  exploration  the  outlying 
beaches  and  other  favorite  resorts  near  our  large 
cities  have  become  so  thoroughly  appropriated 
that  the  man  who  wishes  to  build  or  own  a  sum- 
mer home  of  his  own  is  obliged  to  look  else- 
where. As  a  consequence  cottages  have  sprung 
up  all  along  the  line  of  our  coast,  from  the  far- 
thest confines  of  Maine  to  New  Jersey,  on  the 
shores  of  the  lakes  of  the  Middle  West,  and  on 
the  Pacific  shore.  Many  of  these  are  of  a  simple 
and  attraftive  charader,  and  generally  they  stand 
in  small  colonies,  large  enough  for  companion- 
ship and  not  too  large  for  relaxation.  With  the 
similar  double  purpose  of  obtaining  an  attractive 
summer  home  at  a  reasonable  price,  and  of  avoid- 

[  215  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ing  the  stock  watering-place,  city  families  are 
utilizing  also  the  abandoned  farm.  There  is  not 
room  for  us  all  on  the  sea-coast;  besides  those 
of  us  whose  winter  homes  are  there  are  more 
likely  to  need  inland  or  mountain  air.  There  are 
thousands  of  beautiful  country  spots,  many  of 
them  not  so  very  far  from  our  homes,  where  the 
run-down  farm  can  be  redeemed,  if  not  to  sup- 
ply milk  and  butter,  at  least  to  afford  a  pidur- 
esque  shelter  and  a  lovely  landscape  during  the 
season  when  we  wish  to  be  out  of  doors  as  much 
as  possible.  A  very  few  changes,  a  very  little 
painting  and  refurnishing  will  usually  transform 
the  farm-house  itself  into  just  the  sort  of  estab- 
lishment which  a  family  seeking  rest  and  quiet 
recreation  ought  to  delight  in.  You  may  bring 
mosquito-frames  for  the  windows  if  you  like,  and 
you  must  certainly  test  the  well-water.  Then 
swing  your  hammock  between  two  apple-trees 
and  thank  Providence  that  you  are  not  like  so 
many  of  your  friends  and  acquaintances,  working 
the  tread-mill  of  society  in  the  dog-days. 

Of  course  most  men  who  have  homes  of  this 

description  at  a  distance  cannot  be  with  their 

families  all  the  time.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 

conviction  that  a  busy  man  can  do  better  work  in 

[  ^i6  ] 


The    Summer    Proble 


m 


ten  or  eleven  months  than  in  twelve,  is  gaining 
ground,  and  most  of  us,  if  we  only  choose  to,  can 
slip  away  for  at  least  three  weeks.  Many  of  the 
demands  of  modern  civilization  on  the  family 
purse  cannot  be  resisted  without  leaving  the  hus- 
band and  parent  a  little  depressed;  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  a  serious  item  of  expense  may  be 
avoided,  and  yet  all  the  genuine  benefits  and 
pleasures  of  a  change  of  scene  and  atmosphere  be 
obtained,  if  we  only  dismiss  from  our  minds  the 
idea  of  living  otherwise  than  simply.  A  little 
house  with  very  little  in  it,  with  a  modest  piazza, 
a  skiff  or  sail-boat  which  does  not  pretend  to  be  a 
yacht,  a  garden  hoe  and  rake,  a  camera,  books  and 
a  hammock,  a  rod  which  is  not  too  precious  or 
costly  to  break,  one  nag  of  plebeian  blood  and 
something  to  harness  him  to,  rabbits  in  the  barn 
and  sunflowers  in  the  garden,  a  walk  to  sunset 
hill  and  a  dialogue  with  the  harvest  moon — why 
should  we  not  set  our  summer  life  to  such  a  tune, 
rather  than  hanker  for  the  neighborhood  of  the 
big  steam-yacht  and  polo-ground,  for  the  fringe 
of  the  fashionable  bathing  beach,  for  the  dust  of 
the  stylish  equipage,  and  try  in  our  several  ways, 
and  beyond  our  means,  to  follow  the  pace  which 
is  set  for  us  by  others  ? 

[  217  ] 


The    Summer    Problem. 
II. 

l^^j^^j^^HY?  Largely  on  account  of  that 
IfRl  WifR5  ^^^^y  created  species,  the  American 
M^  M  m^  S^^^'  From  solicitude  for  her  happi- 
5^^^^^  ness  and  out  of  deference  to  her 
wishes.  Many  a  father  and  mother  would  be  de- 
lighted to  pass  the  summer  on  an  abandoned 
farm  or  in  any  other  spot  where  it  were  possible 
to  live  simply  and  to  be  cool,  comfortable,  and 
lazy,  but  for  fear  of  disappointing  their  young 
people — principally  their  daughters,  who,  un- 
like the  sons,  cannot  yet  come  and  go  at  will. 
Feminine  youth  has  its  inherent  privileges  every- 
where, but  the  gentle  sway  which  it  exercises  in 
other  civilizations  has  become  almost  a  sour  ty- 
ranny here.  Was  there  ever  an  American  mother 
who  knew  anything  portrayed  in  fidion  ?  The 
American  daughter  is  commonly  presented  as  a 
noble-souled,  original  creature,  whose  principal 
mission  in  life,  next  to  or  incidental  to  refusing 
the  man  who  is  not  her  choice,  is  to  let  her  own 
parents  understand  what  weak,  ignorant,  foolish, 
unenlightened  persons  they  are  in  comparison 
with   the  rising  generation — both   parents   in 

[218  ] 


The    Summer    Problem 

some  measure,  but  chiefly  and  utterly  the  mo- 
ther. She  is  usually  willing  to  concede  that  her 
father  has  a  few  glimmering  ideas,  and  a  certain 
amount  of  sense — horse  business  sense,  not  very 
elevating  or  inspiring — yet  something  withal. 
But  she  looks  upon  her  poor  dear  mother  as  a 
feeble-minded  individual  of  the  first  water.  What 
we  read  in  contemporary  fidtion  in  this  realistic 
age  is  apt  to  be  photographed  from  existing  con- 
ditions. The  newly  created  species  of  our  homes 
does  not  always  reveal  these  sentiments  in  so 
many  words;  indeed  she  is  usually  disposed  to 
conceal  from  her  parents  as  far  as  possible  their 
own  shortcomings,  believing  often,  with  ostrich- 
like complacency,  that  they  have  no  idea  what 
she  really  thinks  of  them.  Quite  frequently  late 
in  hfe  it  dawns  upon  her  that  they  were  not  such 
complete  imbeciles  as  she  had  adjudged  them, 
and  she  revises  her  convidions  accordingly.  But 
often  she  lives  superior  to  the  end. 

It  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  the  Ameri- 
can girl  if  her  eyes  could  be  definitely  opened  to 
the  fa6l  that  her  parents,  particularly  her  mother, 
are  much  more  clever  than  she  supposes,  and  that 
they  are  really  her  best  counsellors.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  is  not  the  American  mother  herself 
[  219  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

chiefly  responsible  for  this  attitude  of  loving  con- 
tempt and  sweet  but  unfilial  condescension  on 
the  part  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  It  some- 
times seems  as  though  we  had  fallen  vidims  to 
our  relu6lance  to  thwart  our  children  in  any  way 
lest  we  should  destroy  their  love  for  us.  But  is 
it  much  preferable  to  be  loved  devotedly  as  fool- 
ish, weak,  and  amiable  old  things,  than  to  be 
feared  a  little  as  individuals  capable  of  exercising 
authority  and  having  opinions  of  our  own  ? 

This  yielding,  self-abnegating  tendency  on  the 
part  of  parents,  and  consequent  filial  tyranny,  are 
especially  conspicuous  in  the  case  of  that  arch 
despot,  the  summer  girl.  I  admit  her  fascination 
unreservedly,  and  am  willing  to  concede  that  she 
has  run  the  gauntlet  of  criticism  hurled  at  her  by 
the  effete  civilizations  with  an  unblemished  repu- 
tation. Though  she  may  have  become  a  little 
more  conservative  and  conventional  out  of  defer- 
ence to  good  taste,  she  is  still  able  to  be  lost  in 
caves  or  stranded  on  islands  with  any  young  man 
of  her  acquaintance  without  bringing  a  blush  to 
any  cheek  except  that  of  the  horror-stricken  for- 
eigner. But  having  admitted  this,  I  am  obliged 
to  charge  her  with  trampling  on  the  prostrate 
form  of  her  mother  from  the  first  of  July  to  the 
[  220  ] 


The    Summer    Problem 

first  of  Odober.  She  does  so  to  a  certain  extent 
the  year  round,  but  the  summer  is  the  crowning 
season  of  her  despotism. 

The  first  concern  of  the  American  father  and 
mother  in  making  plans  for  the  summer  is  to  go 
to  some  place  which  the  children  will  like,  and 
the  summer  girl  in  particular.  This  is  natural  and 
in  keeping  with  the  unselfish  devotion  shown  by 
the  present  generation  of  parents  toward  their 
children.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  endeavor  to  se- 
ledl  a  place  which  will  be  satisfaftory  to  one's 
eighteen-year-old  daughter  and  another  to  be 
sweetly  hedored  by  that  talented  young  woman 
into  going  to  some  place  selefted  by  her  of  which 
you  entirely  disapprove.  And  just  here  it  is  that 
the  American  mother  almost  seems  to  be  con- 
victed of  the  feebleness  of  intelled  ascribed  to 
her  by  the  newly  created  species.  You,  the  father, 
are  just  screwing  your  courage  up  to  say  that  you 
will  be  blessed  if  you  will  go  to  a  summer  hotel 
at  Narragansett  Pier  (or  wherever  it  is),  when 
your  wife,  who  has  been  cowed  or  cajoled  by  the 
despot  in  the  interim,  flops  completely,  as  the 
saying  is,  and  joins  an  almost  tearful  support  to 
the  summer  girFs  petition.  And  there  you  are. 
What  are  you  to  do  ?  Daughter  and  mother,  the 

[    221    ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

apple  of  your  eye  and  the  angel  of  your  heart, 
leagued  against  you.  Resistence  becomes  impos- 
sible, unless  you  are  ready  to  incur  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  stony-hearted  old  curmudgeon. 
The  summer  girl  invariably  wishes  to  go  where 
it  is  gay.  Her  idea  of  enjoyment  does  not  admit 
domesticity  and  peaceful  relaxation.  She  craves 
to  be  adlively  amused,  if  not  blissfully  excited. 
It  is  not  strange  that  the  tastes  and  sentiments  of 
young  persons  from  seventeen  to  twenty-three 
should  differ  considerably  from  those  of  mothers 
and  fathers  from  forty  to  fifty,  and  it  speaks  well 
for  the  intelligence  and  unselfishness  of  middle- 
aged  parents  and  guardians  in  this  country  that 
they  so  promptly  recognize  the  legitimate  claims 
of  youth,  and  even  are  eager  to  give  young  peo- 
ple a  chance  to  enjoy  themselves  before  the  cares 
of  life  hedge  them  in.  But  have  we  not  gone  to 
the  other  extreme  ?  Is  it  meet  that  we  should  re- 
gard ourselves  as  moribund  at  fifty,  and  sacrifice 
all  our  own  comfort  and  happiness  in  order  to  let 
a  young  girl  have  her  head,  and  lead  a  life  in 
summer  of  which  we  heartily  disapprove  ?  It  is 
not  an  exaggeration  to  state  that  there  is  a  grow- 
ing disposition  on  the  part  of  the  rising  hordes 
of  young  men  and  girls  to  regard  any  one  in 

[  ^^^  ] 


The    Summer    Problem 

society  over  thirty-five  as  a  fossil  and  an  encum- 
brance, for  whom,  in  a  social  sense,  the  grave  is 
yawning.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  hear  a  comely 
matron  of  forty  described  as  a  frump  by  a  youth 
scarcely  out  of  his  teens,  and  every  old  gentleman 
of  thirty-nine  has  experienced  the  tadless  pity 
which  fashionable  maidens  under  twenty-one  en- 
deavor to  conceal  in  the  presence  of  his  senility. 
The  summer  girl  is  generally  a  young  person 
who  has  been  a  winter  girl  for  nine  months.  I 
am  quite  aware  that  some  girls  are  much  more 
effeftive  in  summer  than  at  any  other  season,  and 
it  may  be  that  in  certain  cases  they  appear  to  so 
little  advantage  in  winter  that  to  attempt  to  grat- 
ify parental  inclinations  at  their  expense  would 
be  rank  unkindness.  But  it  is  safe  to  allege  that 
the  average  summer  girl  in  this  country  has  been 
doing  all  she  ought  to  do  in  the  way  of  dancing, 
prancing,  gadding,  going,  working,  and  generally 
spending  her  vital  powers  in  the  autumn,  winter, 
and  spring  immediately  preceding,  and  conse- 
quently when  summer  comes  needs,  quite  as 
much  as  her  parents,  physical,  mental,  and  moral 
ozone.  But  what  does  she  prefer  to  do  ?  Whither 
is  she  bent  on  leading  her  father  by  the  nose 
with  the  assistance  of  her  mother  ?  To  various 
[  223  ] 


"The    Art    of  Living 

places,  according  to  her  special  predileftion,  and 
the  farthest  limit  of  the  parental  purse.  If  pos- 
sible, to  one  of  the  gayest  watering-places,  where 
she  hopes  to  bathe,  play  tennis,  walk,  talk,  and 
drive  during  the  day ;  paddle,  stroll,  or  sit  out  dur- 
ing the  evening,  and  dance  until  twelve  o'clock 
at  night  two  or  three  times  a  week.  Else  to  some 
much-advertised  mountain  catarad  or  lake  re- 
sort, to  lead  a  stagnant  hotel  corridor  and  piazza 
life,  in  the  fond  hope  of  seeing  the  vividly  im- 
agined Him  alight  from  the  stage-coach  some 
Saturday  night.  Meanwhile  she  is  one  of  three- 
score forlorn  girls  who  haunt  the  office  and  make 
eyes  at  the  hotel  clerk.  The  summer  girl  has  a 
mania  for  the  summer  hotel.  It  seems  to  open 
to  her  radiant  possibilities.  She  kindles  at  the 
mention  of  a  hop  in  August,  and  if  she  is  musi- 
cal, the  tinkle  of  her  piano  playing  reverberates 
through  the  house  all  day  until  the  other  board- 
ers are  driven  nearly  crazy.  In  the  gloaming 
after  supper  she  flits  off  from  the  house  with  her 
best  young  man  of  the  moment,  and  presently 
her  mother  is  heard  bleating  along  the  piazza, 
"  My  Dorothy  has  gone  without  her  shawl,  and 
will  catch  her  death  a  cold.'* 

And  so  it  goes  all  summer.  When  autumn 
[  224  ] 


The    Summer    Problem 

comes  and  the  leaf  is  about  to  fall,  and  Dorothy 
returns  to  town,  what  has  she  to  show  for  it  ? 
A  little  tan  and  a  callous  heart,  a  promised  win- 
ter correspondence  with  the  hotel  clerk,  new 
slang,  some  knack  at  banjo-playing,  and  consid- 
erable uncertainty  in  her  mind  as  to  whom  she  is 
engaged  to,  or  whether  she  is  engaged  at  all. 
And  like  as  not  the  dodor  is  sent  for  to  build 
her  up  for  the  winter  with  cod-liver  oil  and  qui- 
nine. There  is  too  much  ozone  at  some  of  these 
summer  hotels. 

We  cannot  hope  to  do  away  wholly  with  either 
the  summer  hotel  or  the  fashionable  watering- 
place  by  the  assertion  of  parental  authority.  Such 
an  endeavor,  indeed,  would  on  the  whole  be  an 
unjust  as  well  as  fruitless  piece  of  virtue.  The 
delightful  comradeship  between  young  men  and 
young  women,  which  is  one  of  our  national  pro- 
dufts,  is  typified  most  saliently  by  the  summer 
girl  and  her  attendant  swains.  Naturally  she 
wishes  to  go  to  some  place  where  swains  are  apt 
to  congregate;  and  the  swain  is  always  in  search 
of  her.  Moreover,  the  summer  hotel  must  con- 
tinue to  be  the  summer  home  of  thousands  who, 
for  one  reason  or  another,  have  no  cottage  or 
abandoned  farm.  My  plea  is  still  the  same,  how- 

[  2^5  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ever.  Why,  now  that  the  negro  slave  is  free,  and 
the  workingman  is  being  legislated  into  peace 
and  plenty,  and  the  wrongs  of  other  women  are 
being  righted,  should  not  the  American  mother 
try  to  burst  her  bonds  ?  It  would  be  a  much 
more  simple  matter  than  it  seems,  for,  after  all, 
she  has  her  own  blood  in  her  veins,  and  she  has 
only  to  remember  what  a  dogmatic  person  she 
herself  was  in  the  days  of  her  youth.  If  the  code 
of  fathers  and  mothers,  instead  of  that  of  girls 
and  boys,  were  in  force  at  our  summer  hotels 
and  watering-places,  a  very  different  state  of  af- 
fairs would  soon  exist;  and  that,  too,  without 
undue  interference  with  that  inherent,  cherished, 
and  unalienable  right  of  the  American  daughter, 
the  maiden's  choice.  We  must  not  forget  that 
though  our  civilization  boasts  the  free  exercise 
of  the  maiden's  choice  as  one  of  the  brightest 
jewels  in  the  crown  of  republican  liberties,  the 
crowded  condition  of  our  divorce  courts  forbids 
us  to  be  too  demonstrative  in  our  self-satisfaction. 
It  would  be  dire,  indeed,  to  bore  the  young 
person,  especially  the  summer  girl.  But  does  it 
necessarily  follow  that  a  summer  home  or  a  sum- 
mer life  indicated  by  the  parent  would  induce 
such  a  disastrous  result  ?  I  am  advising  neither  a 
[  226  ] 


I 


The    Summer    Problem 

dungeon,  a  convent,  nor  some  excruciatingly 
dull  spot  to  which  no  fascinating  youth  is  likely 
to  penetrate.  Verily,  even  the  crowded  bathing 
beach  may  not  corrupt,  provided  that  wise  mo- 
therly control  and  companionship  point  out  the 
dangers  and  prote6l  the  forming  soul,  mind,  and 
manners,  instead  of  allowing  them  to  be  dis- 
torted and  poisoned  by  the  ups  and  downs  of 
promiscuous  amatory  summer  guerilla  warfare. 
But  may  it  not  happen,  when  the  maternal  foot 
is  once  firmly  put  down,  that  the  summer  girl 
will  not  be  so  easily  bored  as  she  or  her  mother 
fears,  and  will  even  be  grateful  for  protection 
against  her  own  ignorance  and  inexperience  ? 
Boating,  sketching,  riding,  reading,  bicycling, 
travel,  sewing,  and  photography  are  pastimes 
which  ought  not  to  bore  her,  and  would  surely 
leave  her  more  refreshed  in  the  autumn  than  con- 
tinuous gadding,  dancing,  and  flirtation.  To  be  a 
member  of  a  small,  pleasant  colony,  where  the 
days  are  passed  simply  and  lazily,  yet  interest- 
ingly; where  the  finer  senses  are  constantly  ap- 
pealed to  by  the  beauties  of  nature  and  the 
healthful  charafter  of  one's  occupations,  is  a 
form  of  exile  which  many  a  summer  girl  would 
accommodate  herself  to  gladly  if  she  only  un- 
[  227  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

derstood  what  it  was  like,  and  understood,  more- 
over, that  the  seledion  of  a  summer  programme 
had  ceased  to  be  one  of  her  prerogatives.  A  de- 
termined man  who  wishes  to  marry  will  discover 
the  objed:  of  his  affedions  on  an  abandoned  farm 
or  in  the  heart  of  the  Maine  woods,  if  he  is 
worth  his  salt.  In  these  days  of  many  yachts  and 
bicycles  true  love  can  travel  rapidly,  and  there 
is  no  occasion  for  marriageable  girls  to  sele6l 
courting-grounds  where  their  lovers  can  have 
close  at  hand  a  Casino  and  other  conveniences, 
including  the  opportunity  to  flirt  with  their  next 
best  Dulcineas. 

If  the  summer-time  is  the  time  in  which  to  re- 
cuperate and  lie  fallow,  why  should  we  have  so 
many  summer  schools  ?  After  the  grand  panjan- 
drum of  Commencement  exercises  at  the  col- 
leges is  over,  there  ought  to  be  a  pause  in  the 
intelleftual  activity  of  the  nation  for  at  least  sixty 
days ;  yet  there  seems  to  be  a  considerable  body 
of  men  and  women  who,  in  spite  of  the  fad  that 
they  exercise  their  brains  vigorously  during  the 
rest  of  the  year,  insist  on  mental  gymnastics  when 
the  thermometer  is  in  the  eighties.  These  schools 
— chiefly  assemblies  in  the  name  of  the  ologies 
and  osophies — bring  together  more  or  less  peo- 
[  228  ] 


I 


The    Summer    Proble 


m 


pie  more  or  less  learned,  from  all  over  the  coun- 
try, to  talk  at  one  another  and  read  papers. 

Judging  merely  from  the  newspaper  accounts 
of  their  proceedings,  it  is  almost  invariably  im- 
possible to  discover  the  exad  meaning  of  any- 
thing which  is  uttered,  but  this  may  be  due  to 
the  absence  of  the  regular  reporters  on  their  an- 
nual vacations,  and  the  consequent  delegation 
to  tyros  of  the  difficult  duty  in  question.  But 
even  assuming  that  the  utterances  of  the  sum- 
mer schools  are  both  intelligible  and  stimulating, 
would  not  the  serious-minded  men  and  women 
concerned  in  them  be  better  off  lying  in  a  ham- 
mock under  a  wide-spreading  beech-tree,  or,  if 
this  seems  too  relaxing  an  occupation,  watching 
the  bathers  at  Narragansett  Pier  ?  There  is  wis- 
dom sometimes  in  sending  young  and  very  ac- 
tive boys  to  school  for  about  an  hour  a  day  in 
summer,  in  order  chiefly  to  know  where  they 
are  and  to  prevent  them  from  running  their  legs 
off;  but  with  this  exception  the  mental  workers 
in  this  country,  male  and  female,  young  and  old, 
can  afford  to  close  their  text-books  with  a  bang 
on  July  1st,  and  not  peep  at  them  again  until 
September.  Philosophy  in  August  has  much  the 
flavor  of  asparagus  in  January. 
[  229  ] 


The    Case   of  Man, 
I. 

^i?)^il?^i?)^^  NOT  inconsiderable  portion  of 
Ills  /4  Ills  ^^^  women  of  the  United  States 
^SL  /\  ^SL  ^^  i^cli^^d  to  regard  man  as  a 
\^  ^7  necessary  evil.  Their  point  of 

^p^p^p^p  view  is  that  he  is  here,  and  there- 
fore is  likely,  for  the  present  at  least,  to  remain 
a  formidable  figure  in  human  affairs,  but  that  his 
ways  are  not  their  ways,  that  they  disapprove  of 
them  and  him,  and  that  they  intend  to  work  out 
their  lives  and  salvation  as  independently  of  him 
as  possible.  What  man  in  the  flush  and  prime 
of  life  has  not  been  made  conscious  of  this  atti- 
tude of  the  modern  woman  ?  She  is  constantly 
passing  us  in  the  street  with  the  manner  of  one 
haughtily  and  supremely  indifferent.  There  are 
women  enough  still  who  look  patterns  of  mod- 
esty, and  yet  let  us  feel  at  the  same  time  that  we 
are  more  or  less  an  objedl  of  interest  to  them; 
but  this  particular  type  sails  by  in  her  trig  and 
often  stylish  costume  with  the  air  not  merely  of 
not  seeing  us,  but  of  wishing  to  ignore  us.  Her 
compressed  lips  suggest  a  judgment;  a  judgment 
born  of  meditated  convidion  which  leaves  no 
[  230  ] 


The    Case    of  Ma 


n 


hope  of  reconsideration  or  exception.  "You  are 
all  substantially  alike,"  she  seems  to  say,  "and 
we  have  had  enough  of  you.  Go  your  ways  and 
we  will  go  ours." 

The  Mecca  of  the  modern  woman's  hopes,  as 
indicated  by  this  point  of  view,  would  appear  to 
be  the  ultimate  disappearance  of  man  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  after  the  manner  of  the  masto- 
don and  other  brutes.  Nor  are  her  hopes  balked 
by  physiological  barriers.  She  is  prepared  to  ad- 
mit that  it  is  not  obvious,  as  yet,  how  girls  alone 
are  to  be  generated  and  boy  babies  given  the  cold 
maternal  shoulder;  but  she  trusts  to  science  and 
the  long  results  of  time  for  a  vidory  which  will 
eliminate  sexual  relations  and  all  their  attendant 
perplexities  and  tragedies  from  the  theatre  of 
human  life. 

We  are  not  so  sanguine  as  she  that  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  to  be  brought  to  pass  in  any  so 
simple  and  purely  feminine  a  fashion.  That  is, 
we  men.  Perhaps  we  are  fatuous,  but  we  see  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  sexual  relations  will  con- 
tinue to  the  crack  of  doom,  in  spite  of  the  per- 
plexities and  tragedies  consequent  upon  them; 
and  moreover,  that  man  will  continue  to  thrive 
like  a  young  bay-tree,  even  though  she  contin- 
[  231   ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ues  to  wear  a  chip  on  her  tailor-made  shoulder. 
And  yet  at  the  same  time  we  feel  sober.  It  is  not 
pleasant  to  be  regarded  as  brutes  and  to  have 
judgment  passed  upon  us  by  otherwise  attractive 
women.  It  behooves  us  to  scratch  our  heads 
and  ask  ourselves  if  we  can  possibly  merit  the 
haughty  indifference  and  thinly  disguised  con- 
tempt which  is  entertained  toward  us.  To  be 
weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting  by  a 
serene  and  beautiful  young  person  is  a  far  from 
agreeable  experience.  There  must  be  something 
wrong  with  us,  and  if  so,  what  is  it  ? 

Of  course  there  was  a  time — and  not  so  very 
long  ago — ^^when  men  were  tyrants  and  kept 
women  under.  Nowadays  the  only  thing  denied 
them  in  polite  circles  is  to  whisk  around  by 
themselves  after  dark,  and  plenty  of  them  do 
that.  The  law  is  giving  them,  with  both  hands, 
almost  everything  they  ask  for  nearly  as  rapidly 
as  existing  inequalities  are  pointed  out,  and  the 
right  of  suffrage  is  withheld  from  them  only  be- 
cause the  majority  of  women  are  still  averse  to 
exercising  it.  Man,  the  tyrant  and  highwayman, 
has  thrown  up  his  arms  and  is  allowing  woman 
to  pick  his  pockets.  He  is  not  willing  to  have 
her  bore  a  hole  in  his  upper  lip,  and  drag  him 

[  23^  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

behind  her  with  a  rope,  but  he  is  disposed  to 
consent  to  any  reasonable  legislative  changes 
which  she  desires  to  have  made,  short  of  those 
which  would  involve  masculine  disfigurement  or 
depreciation.  It  certainly  cannot  be  his  bullying 
qualities  which  have  attracted  her  disdain,  for  he 
has  given  in.  If  woman  to-day  finds  that  the  law 
discriminates  unjustly  between  her  and  man,  she 
has  merely  to  ask  for  relief  in  sufficient  numbers 
to  show  that  she  is  not  the  tool  of  designing 
members  of  her  own  sex,  in  order  to  obtain  it. 
Under  the  spur  of  these  refledions  I  consulted 
my  wife  by  way  of  obtaining  light  on  this  pro- 
blem. "  Barbara,  why  is  it  that  modern  women  of 
a  certain  type  are  so  sniffy  toward  men  ?  You 
know  what  I  mean;  they  speak  to  us,  of  course, 
and  tolerate  us,  and  they  love  us  individually 
as  husbands  and  fathers;  but  instead  of  counting 
for  everything,  as  we  once  did,  we  don't  seem  to 
count  for  anything  unless  it  be  dollars  and  cents. 
It  is  n't  merely  that  you  all  talk  so  fast  and  have 
so  much  to  say  without  regard  to  us  that  we  often 
feel  left  out  in  the  cold,  and  even  hurt,  but  there 
is  a  stern,  relentless  look  on  some  of  your  faces 
which  makes  us  feel  as  though  we  had  stolen  the 
Holy  Grail.  You  must  have  noticed  it." 

[  nz  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

"Oh,  yes/'  said  Barbara,  with  a  smile.  "It 
does  n't  mean  very  much.  Of  course  times  are 
not  what  they  were.  Man  used  to  be  a  demigod, 
now  he  is  only  a '' 

Barbara  hesitated  for  a  word,  so  I  suggested, 
"Only  a  bank." 

"Let  us  say  only  a  man.  Only  a  man  in  the 
eyes  of  refleftive  womanhood.  We  have  caught 
up  and  are  beginning  to  think  for  ourselves.  You 
can't  expeft  us  to  hang  on  your  every  word  and 
to  fall  down  and  worship  you  without  reserva- 
tion as  we  once  did.  Man  used  to  be  woman's 
whole  existence,  often  to  her  infinite  sorrow,  and 
now  he  is  only  part  of  it,  just  as  she  is  only  a 
part  of  his.  You  go  to  your  clubs ;  we  go  to  ours ; 
and  while  you  are  playing  cards  we  read  or  listen 
to  papers,  some  of  which  are  not  intelligible  to 
man.  But  we  love  you  still,  even  though  we  have 
ceased  to  worship  you.  There  are  a  few,  I  admit, 
who  would  like  to  do  away  with  you  altogether; 
but  they  are  extremists — in  every  revolution, 
you  know,  there  are  fanatics  and  unreasonable 
persons — but  the  vast  majority  of  us  have  a  ten- 
der spot  for  you  in  our  hearts,  and  regard  your 
case  in  sorrow  rather  than  in  anger — and  as 
probably  not  hopeless." 

[  234  ] 


I 


The    Case    of  Man 

"What  is  the  matter  with  us?'' 

"Oh,  everything.  You  are  a  failure  fundamen- 
tally. To  begin  with,  your  theory  of  life  is  found- 
ed on  compromise.  We  women — the  modern 
woman — abhor  compromise." 

Although  it  was  obvious  that  Barbara  was  try- 
ing to  tease  me,  I  realized  from  her  expression 
that  she  intended  to  deal  my  sex  a  crucial  stab 
by  the  word  compromise.  I  must  confess  that  I 
felt  just  a  little  uncomfortable  under  the  white 
light  of  scorn  which  radiated  from  her  eyes,  while 
her  general  air  reminded  me  for  the  first  time 
disagreeably  of  the  type  of  modern  woman  to 
whom  I  had  referred. 

"The  world  progresses  by  compromise,"  I 
replied,  sententiously. 

"Yes,  like  a  snail." 

"Otherwise  it  would  stand  still.  A  man  thinks 
so  and  so ;  another  man  thinks  precisely  opposite ; 
they  meet  each  other  half-way  and  so  much  is 
gained." 

"  Oh,  I  know  how  they  do.  A  man  who  stands 
for  a  principle  meets  another  man ;  they  argue 
and  bluster  for  a  few  minutes,  and  presently  they 
sit  down  and  have  something  to  eat  or  drink,  and 
by  the  time  they  separate  the  man  who  stands 

[  235  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

for  a  principle  has  sacrificed  all  there  is  of  it,  ex- 
cept a  tiny  scrap  or  shred,  in  order  not  to  in- 
commode the  man  who  has  no  principles  at  all ; 
and  what  is  almost  worse,  they  part  seemingly 
bosom  friends  and  are  apt  to  exchange  rhetori- 
cal protestations  of  mutual  esteem.  The  modern 
woman  has  no  patience  with  such  a  way  of  doing 
things." 

"I  suppose,"  said  I,  "that  two  modern  women 
under  similar  circumstances  would  tear  each  other 
all  to  pieces ;  there  would  be  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink,  except  possibly  tea  and  wafers,  and  the 
floor  would  be  covered  with  fragments  of  skin, 
hair,  and  clothing.  When  they  separated  one 
would  be  dead  and  the  other  maimed  for  life,  and 
the  principle  for  which  the  vidor  stood  would 
be  set  back  about  a  century  and  a  half." 

Barbara  winced  a  little,  but  she  said,  "  What 
have  you  men  accomplished  all  these  years  by 
your  everlasting  compromises  ?  If  you  were  really 
in  earnest  to  solve  the  liquor  problem,  and  the 
social  evil,  as  you  call  it,  and  all  the  other 
abuses  which  exist  in  civilized  and  uncivilized 
society,  you  would  certainly  have  been  able  to  do 
more  than  you  have.  You  have  had  free  scope ; 
we  have  n't  been  consulted  ;  we  have  stood  aside 


I 


The    Case    of  Ma 


n 


and  let  you  have  your  innings ;  now  we  merely 
wish  to  see  what  we  can  do.  We  shall  make  mis- 
takes I  dare  say  ;  even  one  or  two  of  us  may  be 
torn  to  pieces  or  maimed  for  life  ;  but  the  mod- 
ern woman  feels  that  she  has  the  courage  of  her 
convic5lions  and  that  she  does  not  intend  to  let 
herself  be  thwarted  or  cajoled  by  masculine  theo- 
ries. That  accounts  largely  for  our  apparent  snif- 
finess.  I  say  ^  apparent/  because  we  are  not  really 
at  bottom  so  contemptuous  as  we  seem — even 
the  worst  of  us.  I  suppose  you  are  right  in  de- 
claring that  the  proud,  superior,  and  beautiful 
young  person  of  the  present  day  is  a  little  dis- 
dainful. But  even  she  is  less  severe  than  she 
looks.  She  is  simply  a  nineteenth-century  Joan 
of  Arc  protesting  against  the  man  of  the  world 
and  his  works,  asking  to  be  allowed  to  lead  her 
life  without  molestation  from  him  in  a  shrine  of 
her  own  tasteful  yet  simple  constru6lion — rooms 
or  a  room  where  she  can  practise  her  calling,  fol- 
low her  tastes,  ambitions,  or  hobbies,  pursue  her 
charities,  and  amuse  herself  without  being  ac- 
countable to  him.  She  wishes  him  to  understand 
that,  though  she  is  attraftive,  she  does  not  mean 
to  be  seduced  or  to  be  worried  into  Inatrimony 
against  her  will,  and  that  she  intends  to  use  her 

[  ni  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

earnings  and  her  property  to  pay  her  own  bills 
and  provide  for  her  own  gratification,  instead  of 
to  defray  the  debts  of  her  vicious  or  easy-going 
male  relations  or  admirers.  There  is  really  a  long 
back  account  to  settle,  so  it  is  not  surprising  that 
the  pendulum  should  swing  a  little  too  far  the 
other  way.  Of  course  she  is  wrong ;  woman  can 
no  more  live  wholly  independent  of  man  than 
he  of  her — and  you  know  what  a  helpless  being 
he  would  be  without  her — and  the  modern  wo- 
man is  bound  to  recognize,  sooner  or  later,  that 
the  sympathetic  companionship  of  women  with 
men  is  the  only  basis  of  true  social  progress. 
Sexual  affinity  is  stronger  than  the  constitutions 
of  all  the  women's  clubs  combined,  as  eight  out 
of  ten  young  modern  women  discover  to  their 
cost,  or  rather  to  their  happiness,  sooner  or  later. 
Some  brute  of  a  man  breaks  into  the  shrine,  and 
before  she  knows  it  she  is  wheeling  a  baby  car- 
riage. Even  the  novelist,  with  his  or  her  fertile 
invention,  has  failed  to  discover  any  really  sat- 
isfaftory  ending  for  the  independent,  disdainful 
heroine  but  marriage  or  the  grave.  Spinsterhood, 
even  when  illumined  by  a  career,  is  a  worthy  and 
respedable  lot,  but  not  alluring." 

It  was  something  to  be  assured  by  my  wife 

[238  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

that  the  modern  woman  does  not  purpose  to 
abolish  either  maternity  or  men,  and  that,  so  to 
speak,  her  bark  is  worse  than  her  bite.  Barbara 
belongs  to  a  woman's  club,  so  she  must  know. 
We  men  are  in  such  a  nervous  state,  as  a  result 
of  what  Barbara  calls  the  revolution,  that  very 
likely  we  are  unduly  sensitive  and  suspicious,  and 
allow  our  imaginations  to  fly  off  at  a  tangent. 
Very  likely,  too,  we  are  disposed  to  be  a  trifle  ir- 
ritable, for  when  one  has  been  accustomed  for 
long  to  sit  on  or  club  a  person  (literally  or  meta- 
phorically, according  to  one's  social  status)  when 
she  happens  to  express  sentiments  or  opinions 
contrary  to  ours,  it  must  needs  take  time  to  get 
used  to  the  idea  that  she  is  really  an  equal,  and 
to  adjust  one's  ratiocinations  to  suit.  But  even 
accepting  as  true  the  assurance  that  the  forbid- 
ding air  of  the  modern  woman  does  not  mean 
much,  and  that  she  loves  us  still  though  she  has 
ceased  to  worship  us,  we  have  Barbara's  word  for 
it,  too,  that  the  modern  woman  thinks  we  have 
made  a  mess  of  it  and  that  man  is  a  failure  fun- 
damentally. Love  without  resped !  Sorrow  rather 
than  anger !  It  sobers  one ;  it  saddens  one.  For 
we  must  admit  that  man  has  had  free  scope  and 
a  long  period  in  which  to  make  the  most  of  him- 

[  239  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

self;  and  woman  has  not,  which  precludes  us  from 
answering  back,  as  it  were,  which  is  always  more 
or  less  of  a  consolation  when  one  is  brought  to 
bay. 

A  tendency  to  compromise  is  certainly  one  of 
man's  charaderistics.  Barbara  has  referred  to  it 
as  a  salient  fault — a  vice,  and  perhaps  it  is, 
though  it  is  writ  large  in  the  annals  of  civiliza- 
tion as  conduced  by  man.  We  must  at  least 
agree  that  it  is  not  woman's  way,  and  that  she 
expe6ls  to  do  without  it  when  we  are  no  more  or 
are  less  than  we  are  now.  Probably  we  have  been 
and  are  too  easy-going,  and  no  one  will  deny  that 
one  ought  at  all  times  to  have  the  courage  of 
one's  convidlions,  even  in  midsummer  and  on 
purely  social  occasions;  nevertheless  it  would 
have  been  trying  to  the  nervous  system  and  con- 
ducive to  the  continuance  and  increase  of  stand- 
ing armies,  had  we  favored  the  policy  of  shooting 
at  sight  those  whose  views  on  the  temperance 
question  differed  from  ours,  or  of  telling  the  host 
at  whose  house  we  had  passed  the  evening  that 
we  had  been  bored  to  death. 

If  one  runs  over  in  his  mind  the  Madame 
Tussaud  Gallery  of  masculine  types,  he  cannot 
fail  to  acknowledge  that,  in  our  capacity  of  lords 
[  240  ] 


"The    Case    of   Man 

of  creation  and  viceregents  of  Providence,  we 
have  produced  and  perpetuated  a  number  of 
sorry  specimens.  First  in  the  list  stands  the  so- 
called  man  of  the  world,  on  account  of  whom  in 
particular,  according  to  Barbara,  the  nineteenth- 
century  Joan  of  Arc  looks  askance  at  our  sex. 
He  is  an  old  stager;  he  dates  back  very  nearly, 
if  not  completely,  to  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  he 
has  always  been  a  bugbear  to  woman.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  describe  him ;  he  has  ever  stood  for 
simply  carnal  interests  and  appetites,  whether  as 
a  satyr,  a  voluptuary,  a  wine-bibber,  a  glutton, 
a  miser,  an  idler,  or  a  mere  pleasure-seeker.  If  all 
the  human  industries  which  have  owed  and  still 
owe  their  prosperity  to  his  propensities  were  to 
be  obliterated,  there  would  be  a  large  array  of 
unemployed  in  the  morning  but  a  healthier 
world.  The  bully,  or  prevailer  by  brute  force,  the 
snob,  the  cynic,  the  parasite,  the  trimmer,  and 
the  conceited  egotist  are  others  prominent  in  the 
category,  without  regard  to  criminals  and  unvar- 
nished offenders  against  whose  noxious  behavior 
men  have  proteded  themselves  by  positive  law. 
On  the  other  hand,  our  gallery  of  past  types 
has  many  figures  of  which  we  have  a  right  to  be 
proud.  Unfortunately  we  are  barred  again  from 
[  241  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

comparison  or  answering  back  by  the  taunt  that 
woman  has  never  had  a  chance;  nevertheless  we 
may  claim  for  what  it  is  worth  that,  in  the  realm 
of  intelled:  or  of  the  spirit,  there  have  been  no 
women  who  have  soared  so  high;  seers,  poets, 
law-givers,  unfolders  of  nature's  secrets,  adminis- 
trators of  affairs,  healers  and  scholars  have  been 
chiefly  or  solely  men.  If  some  of  us  have  frater- 
nized with  Belial,  others  have  walked,  or  sought 
to  walk,  with  God  no  less  genuinely  and  fervently 
than  any  woman  who  ever  breathed.  In  the  mat- 
ter of  spirituality,  indeed,  some  of  us  in  the  past 
having  been  led  to  believe  that  women  knew 
more  about  the  affairs  of  the  other  world  than 
men,  sought  to  cultivate  the  spindle-legged, 
thin-chested,  pale,  anaemic  Christian  as  the  type 
of  humanity  most  acceptable  to  God  and  ser- 
viceable to  society;  but  we  have  gone  back  to 
the  bishop  of  sturdy  frame  and  a  reasonably 
healthy  appetite  as  a  more  desirable  mediator 
between  ourselves  and  heaven. 

From  the  standpoint  of  our  present  inquiry, 
what  man  in  his  various  types  has  been  in  the 
past  is  less  pertinent  than  what  he  is  at  present. 
To  begin  with,  certainly  the  modern  man  is  not 
a  pi6luresque  figure.  He  no  longer  appeals  to  the 
[  242  ] 


I 


The    Case    of  Man 

feminine  or  any  eye  by  virtue  of  imposing  ap- 
parel or  accoutrements.  Foreign  army  officers 
and  servants  in  livery  are  almost  the  only  males 
who  have  not  exchanged  plumage  for  sober 
woollens,  tweeds,  or  serges,  and  the  varied  re- 
splendent materials  and  colors  by  means  of 
which  men  used  to  distinguish  themselves  from 
one  another  and  to  negative  their  evil-doings  in 
the  eyes  of  women  have  been  discarded.  All  men 
but  one  look  alike  to  any  woman,  and  even  that 
one  is  liable  to  be  confounded  with  the  rest  of 
mankind  when  he  is  more  than  half  a  block  away. 
Nor  is  the  homogeneous  tendency  limited  to 
clothes ;  it  includes  manners,  morals,  and  point 
of  view.  The  extreme  types  approximate  each 
other  much  more  closely  than  formerly,  and  apart 
from  criminals  and  deliberately  evil-minded  per- 
sons, women  have  some  ground  for  their  insinu- 
ation that  we  are  all  pretty  much  alike.  Let  it  be 
said  that  this  effed  is  in  one  sense  a  feather  in 
our  caps.  The  nineteenth-century  Joan  of  Arc 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  the  modern  man 
of  the  world  is  a  manifest  improvement  on  his 
predecessor.  He  is  no  longer  to  be  found  under 
the  table  after  dinner  as  a  social  matter  of  course, 
and    three-bottles-to-a-guest    festivities    have 

[  243  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

ceased  to  be  an  aristocratic  fundion.  Though  on 
occasions  still  he  will  fumble  with  the  latch-key, 
he  mounts  the  stairs  very  little,  if  at  all,  after 
midnight  with  the  nonchalance  of  self-congratu- 
latory sobriety,  and  all  those  dire  scenes  of  wo- 
man on  the  staircase  with  a  lighted  candle  looking 
down  at  her  prostrate  lord  and  master  belong  to 
an  almost  dim  past.  True  it  may  be  that  the  man 
of  the  world  fears  God  no  more  than  formerly, 
but  he  has  learned  to  have  a  wholesome  dread 
of  Bright's  disease,  the  insane  asylum,  and  those 
varied  forms  of  sudden  and  premature  death 
which  are  included  under  the  reportorial  head 
of  heart-failure.  Mere  brutishness  in  its  various 
forms  is  less  apparent.  The  coarse  materialist  still 
swaggers  in  public  places  and  impudently  puffs 
a  cigar  in  the  face  of  modesty,  but  he  serves  no 
longer  as  a  model  for  envious  contemporaries  or 
an  objed:  of  hero-worship  to  the  rising  genera- 
tion. Good  taste,  if  nothing  better,  has  checked 
man's  tendencies  to  make  a  beast  of  himself  in 
public  or  in  private. 

Similarly,  also,  the  type  of  man  to  whom  we 

look  up  most  proudly  and  confidently  to-day  is 

not  altogether  the  same.  The  model  whom  we 

were  urged,  and  whom  we  sought  of  old  to  imi- 

[  244  ] 


The    Case    of  Ma 


n 


tate,  was  he  who  wrestled  with  God  on  the 
mountain-top,  without  a  thought  of  earth's 
smoke  and  din  and  wretchedness.  Human  life 
and  its  joys  and  interests  served  for  him  as  a 
homily  on  vanity,  or  was  regarded  as  a  degra- 
dation in  comparison  with  the  revelations  ob- 
tained by  the  priest,  poet,  or  devotee  of  culture 
through  the  vista  of  aspiring  imagination  or  zeal. 
The  conservative  man  of  affairs — vigorous,  far- 
seeing,  keenly  alive  to  the  joys  and  interests  of 
this  life,  strongly  sympathetic  on  the  humani- 
tarian side,  a  man  of  the  world  withal  in  a  rea- 
sonable sense — has  impressed  his  personality  on 
modern  society  more  successfully  than  any  other 
type.  The  priest  who  cares  not  for  his  fellow-man, 
the  poet  whose  dreams  and  visions  include  no 
human  interest  or  passion,  the  devotee  of  culture 
who  refines  merely  to  refine,  have  been  super- 
seded, and  in  their  stead  we  have  the  man  of  the 
world  who  is  interested  in  the  world  and  for  the 
world. 

This  change  in  the  avowed  aims  and  aspira- 
tions of  man  has  not  been  without  certain  appar- 
ently melancholy  results  and  manifestations  of 
which  society  is  feeling  the  effed:  at  present,  and 
which  if  allowed  to  prevail  too  far  will  undo  us. 

[  H5  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

The  removal  of  the  gaze  of  the  priest,  poet,  and 
devotee  of  culture  from  the  stars  in  contempt  of 
earth,  and  the  substitution  of  earth-gazing  as  a 
method  for  understanding  the  stars,  has  seemed 
to  cast  a  damper  on  human  imagination  and  has 
thereby  caused  many  excellent  women  and  some 
men  to  weep.  If  materialism  be  the  science  of 
trying  to  get  the  most  out  of  this  life,  this  is  a 
material  age ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  should  be 
remembered  that  man  in  this  age  has  ceased  for 
the  first  time  to  be  either  a  hypocrite  or  a  fool. 
Undoubtedly  the  process  of  becoming  both  sin- 
cere and  sensible,  especially  as  it  has  substituted 
concern  for  the  ignorant,  the  oppressed,  and  the 
vicious  of  this  earth  about  whom  we  know  next 
to  nothing,  in  place  of  Pre-Raphaelite  heavenly 
choirs,  alabaster  halls,  and  saints  in  glory  about 
whom  we  thought  we  knew  everything,  has  been 
a  little  trying  for  the  rest  of  us  as  well  as  for  the 
priests,  poets,  and  devotees  of  culture.  But  the 
women  must  not  be  discouraged  ;  we  shall  grow 
to  the  situation  in  time,  and  even  the  poets,  who 
seem  to  be  most  down  in  the  mouth  at  present, 
will  sooner  or  later  find  a  fresh  well  of  inspiration 
by  learning  to  study  the  refledion  of  the  stars  on 
the  earth  instead  of  looking  diredlly  at  them.  Let 

[  246  ] 


The    Case    of   Man 

them  be  patient,  though  it  be  to  death,  and  some 
day  through  others,  if  not  through  themselves, 
the  immortal  verse  will  flow  and  the  immortal 
lyre  sound  again. 

Undoubtedly  the  modern  man  is  at  present  a 
rather  trying  person  to  woman,  for  woman  would 
have  been  glad,  now  that  she  is  coming  into 
her  kingdom,  to  have  him  more  of  a  crusader 
and  less  of  a  philosopher.  To  behold  him  lack- 
ing in  pifturesqueness  and  a  philosopher  ad- 
difted  to  compromise  into  the  bargain  is  almost 
irritating  to  her,  and  she  has  certainly  some 
ground  for  criticism.  The  man  who  sits  oppo- 
site to  her  at  the  breakfast-table,  even  after  he 
has  overcome  conservative  fears  of  nothing  to 
live  on  and  dawdled  into  matrimony,  is  a  lova- 
ble but  not  especially  exciting  person.  He  eats, 
works,  and  sleeps,  does  most  of  the  things  which 
he  ought  to  do  and  leaves  undone  a  commenda- 
ble number  of  the  things  which  he  ought  not  to 
do,  and  is  a  rather  respedable  member  of  society 
of  the  machine-made  order.  He  works  very  hard 
to  supply  her  with  money;  he  is  kind  to  her  and 
the  children;  he  gives  her  her  head,  as  he  calls 
it;  and  he  acquiesces  pleasantly  enough  in  the 
social  plans  which  she  entertains  for  herself  and 
[  247  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

him,  and  ordinarily  he  is  sleepy  in  the  evening. 
Indeed,  in  moments  of  most  serious  depression 
she  is  tempted  to  think  of  him  as  a  superior 
choreman,  a  comparison  which  haunts  her  even 
in  church.  She  would  like,  with  one  fell  swoop 
of  her  broom,  to  clear  the  world  of  the  social 
evil,  the  fruit  of  the  grape,  tobacco,  and  playing 
cards,  to  introduce  drastic  educational  reforms 
which  would,  by  kindergarten  methods,  familiar- 
ize every  one  on  earth  with  art  and  culture,  and 
to  bring  to  pass  within  five,  or  possibly  six  years, 
a  golden  age  of  absolute  reform  inspired  and  es- 
tablished by  woman.  Life  for  her  at  present 
means  one  vast  camp  of  committee  meetings, 
varied  only  by  frequent  cups  of  tea;  and  that 
steaming  beverage  continues  prominent  in  her 
radiant  vision  of  the  coming  millennium.  No 
wonder  it  disconcerts  and  annoys  her  to  find  so 
comparatively  little  enthusiastic  confidence  in 
the  immediate  success  of  her  fell  swoop,  and  to 
have  her  pathway  blocked  by  grave  or  lazy  ifs 
and  buts  and  by  cold  contradidtions  of  fad.  No 
wonder  she  abhors  compromise;  no  wonder  she 
regards  the  man  who  goes  on  using  tobacco  and 
playing  cards  and  drinking  things  stronger  than 
tea  as  an  inert  and  soulless  creature. 

[  248  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

Yet  smile  as  we  may  at  the  dull,  sorry  place 
the  world  would  be  were  the  golden  age  of  her 
intention  to  come  upon  us  over  night  like  a  cold 
wave,  is  she  not  justified  in  regarding  the  aver- 
age custom-made  man  of  the  day  as  a  highly 
respectable,  well-to-do  choreman  who  earns  fair 
wages  and  goes  to  sleep  at  night  contented  with 
a  good  meal  and  a  pipe?  Is  he  not  machine- 
made  ?  Sincere  and  wise  as  he  is,  now  that  his 
gaze  is  fixed  on  the  needs  of  earth,  has  he  not 
the  philosophy  of  hygienic  comfort  and  easy- 
going conservative  materialism  so  completely  on 
the  brain  that  he  is  in  danger  of  becoming  ordi- 
nary instead  of  just  a  little  lower  than  the  an- 
gels ?  Let  us  consider  him  from  this  point  of 
view  more  in  detail. 


t  249  ] 


The    Case    of  Man, 
II. 

^^^^^^HE  young  man  of  the  present  era 
j^  T  J^  ^^  ^^^  twenty-first  birthday  is  apt  to 
^^r^  ^^  fi^d  himself  in  a  very  prudent  and 
^^^^^^  conservative  atmosphere.  The  dif- 
ficulties of  getting  on  are  explained  to  him ;  he 
is  properly  assured  that,  though  there  is  plenty 
of  room  on  the  top  benches,  the  occupations 
and  professions  are  crowded,  if  not  overcrowded, 
and  that  he  must  buckle  down  if  he  would  suc- 
ceed. It  is  obvious  to  him  that  the  field  of  ad- 
venture and  fortune-seeking  in  foreign  or  strange 
places  is  pradically  exhausted.  It  is  open  to  him, 
to  be  sure,  to  go  to  the  North  Pole  in  search  of 
some  one  already  there,  or  to  study  in  a  cage  in 
the  jungles  of  Africa  the  linguistic  value  of  the 
howls  and  chatterings  of  wild  animals ;  but  these 
are  manifestly  poor  pickings  compared  with  the 
opportunities  of  the  past  when  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  globe  was  still  uninvestigated  soil, 
and  a  reputation  or  treasure-trove  was  the  tol- 
erably frequent  reward  of  leaving  the  rut  of  civi- 
lized life.  It  is  plainly  pointed  out  to  him,  too, 
that  to  be  florid  is  regarded  as  almost  a  mental 

[  250  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

weakness  in  intelledual  or  progressive  circles. 
He  sees  the  lawyer  who  makes  use  of  metaphor, 
bombast,  and  the  other  arts  of  oratory,  which 
used  to  captivate  and  convince,  distanced  in  the 
race  for  eminence  by  him  who  employs  a  suc- 
cind:,  dispassionate,  and  almost  colloquial  form 
of  statement.  He  recognizes  that  in  every  de- 
partment of  human  aftivity,  from  the  investiga- 
tion of  disease-germs  to  the  management  of  rail- 
roads, steady,  undemonstrative  marshallings  of 
fad:,  and  cautious,  unemotional  dedudion  there- 
from are  considered  the  scientific  and  only  ap- 
propriate method.  He  knows  that  the  expression 
of  unusual  or  erratic  ideas  will  expose  him  to  the 
stigma  of  being  a  crank,  a  reputation  which,  once 
acquired,  sticks  like  pitch,  and  that  the  betrayal 
of  sentiment  will  induce  conservative  people  to 
put  him  on  the  suspeded  list. 

All  this  is  imbibed  by  him  as  it  should  be,  in  the 
interest  of  sincerity  and  sense.  Under  the  sobering 
restraint  of  it  the  young  man  begins  to  make  his 
way  with  enthusiasm  and  energy,  but  circum- 
spedly  and  deliberately.  He  mistrusts  everything 
that  he  cannot  pick  to  pieces  on  the  spot  and  ana- 
lyze, and  though  he  is  willing  to  be  amused,  be- 
guiled, or  even  temporarily  inspired  by  appeals  to 

[^51  ] 


The    Art    of  LQving 

his  imagination  or  emotions,  he  puts  his  doubts  or 
qualms  aside  next  morning  at  the  behest  of  busi- 
ness. He  wishes  to  get  on.  He  is  determined  not 
to  allow  anything  to  interfere  with  that,  and  he 
understands  that  that  is  to  be  accomplished  partly 
by  hard  work  and  partly  by  becoming  a  good  fel- 
low and  showing  common-sense.  This  is  excellent 
reasoning  until  one  examines  too  closely  what  is 
expeded  of  him  as  a  good  fellow,  and  what  is  re- 
quired of  him  in  the  name  of  common-sense. 

There  have  been  good  fellows  in  every  age, 
and  some  of  them  have  been  tough  specimens. 
Our  good  fellow  is  almost  highly  respeftable.  He 
wishes  to  live  as  long  as  he  can,  and  to  let  others 
live  as  long  as  they  can.  His  patron  saints  are 
his  do(5t:or,  his  bank  account,  prudence,  and  gen- 
eral toleration.  If  he  were  obliged  to  specify  the 
vice  not  covered  by  the  statute  law  which  he 
most  abhors,  he  would  probably  name  slopping 
over.  He  aims  to  be  genial,  sympathetic,  and 
knowing,  but  not  obtrusively  so,  and  he  is  be- 
comingly suspicious  and  reticent  regarding  every- 
thing which  cannot  be  demonstrated  on  a  chart 
like  an  international  yacht-race  or  a  medical  op- 
eration. He  is  quietly  and  moderately  licentious, 
and  justifies  himself  satisfaftorily  but  mournfully 

[  252  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

on  hygienic  grounds  or  on  the  plea  of  masculine 
inevitability.  He  works  hard,  if  he  has  to,  for  he 
wishes  to  live  comfortably  by  the  time  he  is  forty, 
and  comfort  means,  as  it  ought  to  mean,  an  attrac- 
tive wife,  an  attradlive  establishment,  and  an  at- 
traftive  income.  An  imprudent  marriage  seems 
to  him  one  of  the  most  egregious  forms  of  slop- 
ping over.  If  he  hears  that  two  of  his  contem- 
poraries are  engaged,  his  first  inquiry  is,  "  What 
have  they  to  live  on  ? "  and  if  the  answer  is  un- 
satisfadory,  they  fall  a  peg  or  two  in  his  estima- 
tion, and  he  is  likely,  the  next  time  he  feels  mel- 
low after  dinner,  to  descant  on  the  impropriety 
of  bringing  children  into  the  world  who  may  be 
left  penniless  orphans.  If  he  falls  in  love  himself 
before  he  feels  that  his  pecuniary  position  war- 
rants it,  he  tries  to  shake  out  the  arrow,  and,  if 
that  fails,  he  cuts  it  out  deliberately  under  antisep- 
tic treatment  to  avoid  blood-poisoning.  All  our 
large  cities  are  full  of  young  men  who  have  un- 
dergone this  operation.  To  lose  one's  vermiform 
appendix  is  a  perilous  yet  blessed  experience ;  but 
this  trifling  with  the  human  heart,  however  scien- 
tific the  excision,  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  bene- 
ficial unless  we  are  to  assume  that  it,  like  the 
fashionable  sac,  has  become  rudimentary. 

[  253  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

We  see  a  great  many  allusions  in  our  comic 
and  satiric  weeklies  to  marrying  for  money,  but 
the  good  fellow  of  the  best  type  ordinarily  dis- 
dains such  a  proceeding.  His  self-respe6l  is  not 
offended  but  hugely  gratified  if  the  young  wo- 
man with  whom  he  intends  to  ally  himself  would 
be  able  immediately  or  prospectively  to  contri- 
bute a  million  or  so  to  the  domestic  purse;  but 
he  would  regard  a  deliberate  sale  of  himself  for 
cash  as  a  dirty  piece  of  business.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  is  very  business-like  where  his  heart  is 
engaged,  and  is  careful  not  to  let  his  emotions  or 
fancy  get  the  better  of  him  until  he  can  see  his 
ship — and  a  well-freighted  one  at  that — on  the 
near  horizon.  And  what  is  to  become  of  the 
young  woman  in  the  meantime  ?  To  let  conceal- 
ment, like  a  worm  in  the  bud,  feed  on  a  damask 
cheek  may  be  more  fatal  than  masculine  arrow 
extradion;  for  woman,  less  scientific  in  her  me- 
thods than  man,  is  less  able  to  avoid  blood-poi- 
soning. She  doses  herself,  probably,  with  anti- 
pyrine,  burns  her  Emerson  and  her  Tennyson, 
and  after  a  period  of  nervous  prostration  devotes 
herself  to  charity  toward  the  world  at  large  with 
the  exception  of  all  good  fellows. 

The  good  fellow  after  he  marries  continues 

[  254  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

to  be  a  good  fellow.  He  adapts  himself  to  the 
humanitarian  necessities  of  the  situation;  he  be- 
comes fond  and  domestic,  almost  oppressively 
so,  and  he  is  eager  to  indulge  the  slightest  wish 
or  fancy  of  his  mate,  provided  it  be  within  the 
bounds  of  easy-going  rationalism.  The  conjugal 
pliability  of  the  American  husband  is  a  well- 
recognized  original  feature  of  our  institutions, 
nevertheless  he  is  apt  to  develop  kinks  unless  he 
be  allowed  to  be  indulgent  and  companionable 
in  his  own  way.  He  works  harder  than  ever,  and 
she  for  whose  sake  he  is  ostensibly  toiling  is  en- 
couraged to  make  herself  fetching  and  him  com- 
fortable as  progressively  as  his  income  will  per- 
mit. When  the  toil  of  the  week  is  over  he  looks 
for  his  reward  in  the  form  of  a  Welsh-rarebit 
with  theatrical  celebrities,  a  little  game  of  poker 
within  his  means,  or,  if  he  be  musical,  a  small 
gathering  of  friends  to  sing  or  play,  if  possible 
in  a  so-called  Bohemian  spirit.  It  irks  him  to 
stand  very  upright  or  to  converse  for  long, 
whether  in  masculine  or  feminine  society.  He 
likes  to  sprawl  and  to  be  entertained  with  the 
latest  bit  of  humor,  but  he  is  willing,  on  a  plea- 
sant Sunday  or  holiday,  to  take  exercise  in  order 
to  perspire  freely,  and  then  to  lie  at  ease  under 

[^55] 


The    Art    of  Living 

a  tree  or  a  bank,  pleasantly  refreshed  with  beer 
and  tobacco,  and  at  peace  with  the  world.  He 
prefers  to  have  her  with  him  everywhere,  except 
at  the  little  game  of  poker,  and  is  conscious  of 
an  aching  void  if  she  be  not  at  hand  to  help  him 
recuperate,  philosophize,  and  admire  the  view. 
But  he  expeds  her  to  do  what  he  likes,  and  ex- 
pefts  her  to  like  it  too. 

In  no  age  of  the  world  has  the  reasoning  pow- 
er of  man  been  in  better  working  order  than  at 
present.  With  all  due  resped:  to  the  statistics 
which  show  that  the  female  is  beginning  to  out- 
strip the  male  in  academic  competitive  examina- 
tions, one  has  only  to  keep  his  ears  and  eyes  open 
in  the  workaday  world  in  order  to  be  convinced 
that  man's  purely  mental  processes  suggest  a  ra- 
zor and  woman's  a  corkscrew.  The  manager  of 
corporate  interests,  the  lawyer,  the  historian,  the 
physician,  the  chemist,  and  the  banker  seek  to- 
day to  probe  to  the  bottom  that  which  they 
touch,  and  to  expose  to  the  acid  of  truth  every 
rosy  theory  and  sedudive  prospedus.  This  is  in 
the  line  of  progress ;  but  to  be  satisfied  with  this 
alone  would  speedily  reduce  human  society  to 
the  status  of  a  highly  organized  racing  stable. 
If  man  is  to  be  merely  a  jockey,  who  is  to  ride 

[256] 


The    Case    of  Man 

as  light  as  he  can,  there  is  nothing  to  be  said; 
but  even  on  that  theory  is  it  not  possible  to  train 
too  fine  ?  With  eloquence  tabooed  as  savoring 
of  insincerity,  with  conversation  as  a  fine  art 
starved  to  death,  with  melody  in  music  sniffed 
at  as  sensational,  and  fancy  in  literature  con- 
demned as  unscientific,  with  the  loosening  of  all 
the  bonds  of  conventionality  which  held  civili- 
zation to  the  mark  in  matters  of  taste  and  ele- 
gance, and  with  a  general  doing  away  with  color 
and  emotion  in  all  the  praftical  affairs  of  life  out 
of  regard  to  the  gospel  of  common-sense  and  ma- 
chine-made utility,  the  jockey  now  is  riding  prac- 
tically in  his  own  skin. 

One  has  to  go  back  but  a  little  way  in  order 
to  encounter  among  the  moving  spirits  of  society 
a  radically  different  attitude.  Unquestionably  the 
temper  of  the  present  day  is  the  result  of  a  vig- 
orous readion  against  false  or  maudlin  sentiment, 
florid  drivel,  and  hypocritical  posturing;  but  cer- 
tainly a  Welsh-rarebit  at  midnight,  with  easy- 
going companions,  is  a  far  remove  as  a  spiritual 
stimulus  from  bread  eaten  in  tears  at  the  same 
hour.  As  has  been  intimated,  this  exaggeration 
of  commonplaceness  will  probably  right  itself  in 
time,  but  man's  lack  of  susceptibility  to  influ- 
[  257  ] 


T'he    Art    of  Living 

ences  and  impressions  which  cannot  be  weighed, 
fingered,  smelt,  looked  at,  or  tasted,  seems  to 
justify  at  present  the  stri6lures  of  the  modern 
woman,  who,  with  all  her  bumptiousness,  would 
fain  continue  to  reverence  him.  Some  in  the  van 
of  feminine  progress  would  be  glad  to  see  the 
inspiration  and  diredion  of  all  matters — spirit- 
ual, artistic,  and  social — apportioned  to  woman 
as  her  sole  rightful  prerogative,  and  consequently 
to  see  man  become  veritably  a  superior  chore- 
man.  Fortunately  the  world  of  men  and  women 
is  likely  to  agree  with  Barbara  that  mutual  sym- 
pathy and  co-operation  in  these  matters  between 
the  sexes  are  indispensable  to  the  healthy  devel- 
opment of  human  society. 

But  even  assuming  that  women  were  ready  to 
accept  the  responsibility  and  men  were  willing 
to  renounce  it,  I,  for  one,  fear  that  civilization 
would  find  itself  in  a  ditch  rather  speedily.  All 
of  us — we  men,  I  mean — recognize  the  purify- 
ing and  deterrent  influence  of  woman  as  a  Men- 
tor and  sweet  critic  at  our  elbows.  We  have 
learned  to  depend  upon  her  to  prod  us  when  we 
lag,  and  to  save  us  from  ourselves  when  our 
brains  get  the  better  of  our  hearts.  But,  after  all, 
woman  is  a  clinging  creature.  She  has  been  used 

[  258  ] 


The    Case    of  Man 

to  playing  second  fiddle;  and  it  is  quite  a  diflFer- 
ent  affair  to  lead  an  orchestra.  To  point  the  way 
to  spiritual  or  artistic  progress  needs,  first  of  all, 
a  clear  intelled  and  a  firm  purpose,  even  though 
they  alone  are  not  sufficient.  Woman  is  essen- 
tially yielding  and  impressionable.  At  the  very 
moment  when  the  modern  Joan  of  Arc  would 
be  doing  her  best  to  make  the  world  a  better 
place,  would  not  eleven  other  women  out  of  the 
dozen  be  giving  way  to  the  captivating  plausi- 
bility of  some  emotional  situation  ? 

As  an  instance  of  what  she  is  already  capable 
of  from  a  social  point  of  view,  now  that  she  has 
been  given  her  head,  may  well  be  cited  the  fever- 
ish eagerness  with  which  some  of  the  most  highly 
cultivated  and  most  subtly  evolved  American 
women  of  our  large  cities  vie  with  each  other  for 
intimacy  with  artistic  foreign  lions  of  their  own 
sex  known  to  be  unchaste.  They  seem  to  regard 
it  as  a  privilege  to  play  hostess  to,  or,  at  least, 
to  be  on  familiar  terms  with,  adresses,  opera- 
singers,  and  other  public  characters  quietly  but 
notoriously  erotic,  the  plea  in  each  case  being 
that  they  are  ready  to  forgive,  to  forget,  and  ig- 
nore for  the  sake  of  art  and  the  artist.  Yes,  ignore 
or  forget,  if  you  choose,  so  far  as  seeing  the  ar- 
[  ^^^9  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

tist  ad  or  hearing  her  sing  in  public  is  concerned, 
where  there  are  no  social  ceremonies  or  inter- 
course; but  let  us  please  remember  at  the  same 
time  that  even  those  effete  nations  who  believe 
that  the  world  would  be  a  dull  place  without 
courtesans,  insist  on  excluding  such  persons 
from  their  drawing-rooms.  Indeed  there  is  rea- 
son to  believe  that  some  of  the  artists  in  ques- 
tion have  become  hilarious,  when  out  of  sight 
of  our  hospitable  shores,  over  the  wonders  of 
American  social  usages  among  the  pure  and  cul- 
tivated women.  Before  our  young  men  will  cease 
to  sow  wild  oats  their  female  relations  must 
cease  to  run  after  other  men's  mistresses.  De- 
cidedly, the  modern  Joan  of  Arc  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding,  man  cannot  afford  to  abdicate 
just  yet.  But  he  needs  to  mend  his  hedges  and 
to  look  after  his  preserves. 


[  260  ] 


The    Case    of  Woman, 
I. 

]^^  GREAT  many  men,  who  are 
sane  and  reasonable  in  other 
matters,  allow  themselves,  on 
the  slightest  provocation,  to  be 
worked  up  into  a  fever  over  the 
aspirations  of  woman.  They  decline  to  listen  to 
argument,  grow  red  in  the  face,  and  saw  the  air 
with  their  hands,  if  they  do  not  pound  on  the 
table,  to  express  their  views  on  the  subjed: — 
which,  by  the  way,  are  as  out  of  date  and  old- 
fashioned  as  a  pine-tree  shilling.  They  remind 
one  of  the  ostrich  in  that  they  seem  to  imagine, 
because  they  have  buried  their  heads  in  the  sand, 
nothing  has  happened  or  is  happening  around 
them.  They  confront  the  problem  of  woman's 
emancipation  as  though  it  were  only  just  being 
broached  instead  of  in  the  throes  of  delivery. 

For  instance,  my  friend,  Mr.  Julius  Caesar,  who 
though  a  conservative,  cautious  man  by  nature,  is 
agreeably  and  commendably  liberal  in  other  mat- 
ters, seems  to  be  able  to  see  only  one  side  of  this 
question.  And  one  side  seems  to  be  all  he  wishes 
to  see.  "Take  my  wife,*'  he  said  to  me  the  other 

[261  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

day;  "as  women  go  she  is  a  very  clever  and  sensi- 
ble woman.  She  was  given  the  best  advantages  in 
theway  of  school-training  open  to  young  ladies  of 
her  day;  she  has  accomplishments,  domestic  vir- 
tues, and  fine  religious  instinds,  and  I  adore  her. 
But  what  does  she  know  of  politics?  She  could  n't 
tell  you  the  difference  between  a  senator  and  an 
alderman,  and  her  mind  is  praftically  a  blank  on 
the  tariff  or  the  silver  question.  I  tell  you,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  if  woman  is  allowed  to  leave  the  do- 
mestic hearth  and  play  ducks  and  drakes  with  the 
right  of  suffrage,  every  political  caucus  will  become 
a  retail  dry  goods  store.  If  there  is  one  thing  which 
makes  a  philosopher  despair  of  the  future  of  the 
race,  it  is  to  stand  in  a  crowded  drygoods  store 
and  watch  the  jam  of  women  perk  and  push  and 
sidle  and  grab  and  covet  and  go  well-nigh  crazy 
over  things  to  wear.  The  average  woman  knows 
about  clothes,  the  next  world,  children,  and  her 
domestic  duties.  Let  her  stick  to  her  sphere.  A 
woman  at  a  caucus  ?  Who  would  see  that  my  din- 
ner was  properly  cooked,  eh  ?" 

One  would  suppose  from  these  remarks  that 

the   male   American   citizen    spends    his    days 

chiefly  at  caucuses ;  whereas,  as  we  all  know  when 

we  refled:,  he  goes  perhaps  twice  a  year,  if  he  be 

[  262  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

3,  punftilious  patriot  like  Julius  Caesar,  and  if  not, 
probably  does  not  go  at  all.  If  the  consciousness 
that  his  wife  could  vote  at  a  caucus  would  a6t  as 
a  spur  to  the  masculine  political  conscience,  the 
male  American  citizen  could  well  afford  to  dine 
at  a  restaurant  on  eledion-days,  or  to  cook  his 
own  food  now  and  then. 

Of  course,  even  a  man  with  views  like  Julius 
Caesar  would  be  sorry  to  have  his  wife  the  sla- 
vish, dollish,  or  unenlightened  individual  which 
she  was  apt  to  be  before  so-called  women's  rights 
were  heard  of.  As  he  himself  has  proclaimed, 
he  adores  his  wife,  and  he  is,  moreover,  secretly 
proud  of  her  aesthetic  presentability.  Without 
being  an  advanced  woman,  Dolly  Caesar  has  the 
interests  of  the  day  and  hour  at  her  fingers'  ends, 
can  talk  intelligently  on  any  subjed,  whether  she 
knows  anything  about  it  or  not,  and  is  decidedly 
in  the  van,  though  she  is  not  a  leader.  Julius 
does  not  take  into  account,  when  he  anathema- 
tizes the  sex  because  of  its  ambitions,  the  differ- 
ence between  her  and  her  great-grandmother. 
He  believes  his  wife  to  be  a  very  charming  speci- 
men of  what  a  woman  ought  to  be,  and  that, 
barring  a  few  differences  of  costume  and  hair  ar- 
rangement, she  is  pradically  her  great-grand- 

[  ^63  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

mother  over  again.  Fatuous  Julius  !  There  is 
where  he  is  desperately  in  error.  Dolly  Caesar's 
great-grandmother  may  have  been  a  radiant 
beauty  and  a  famous  housekeeper,  but  her  brain 
never  harbored  one-tenth  of  the  ideas  and  opin- 
ions which  make  her  descendant  so  attraftive. 

Those  who  argue  on  this  matter  like  Julius 
Caesar  fail  to  take  into  account  the  gradual,  silent 
results  of  time;  and  this  is  true  of  the  results  to 
come  as  well  as  those  which  have  accrued.  When 
the  suffrage  question  is  mooted  one  often  hears 
sober  men,  more  dispassionate  men  than  Julius 
—  Perkins,  for  instance,  the  thin,  nervous  law- 
yer and  father  of  four  girls,  and  a  sober  man 
indeed — ask  judicially  whether  it  is  possible  for 
female  suffrage  to  be  a  success  when  not  one 
woman  in  a  thousand  would  know  what  was  ex- 
peded  of  her,  or  how  to  vote.  "I  tell  you,"  says 
Perkins,  "they  are  utterly  unfitted  for  it  by  train- 
ing and  education.  Four-fifths  of  them  would  n't 
vote  if  they  were  allowed  to,  and  every  one 
knows  that  ninety-nine  women  out  of  every 
hundred  are  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  matters 
in  regard  to  which  they  would  cast  their  ballots. 
Take  my  daughters ;  fine  girls,  talented,  intelli- 
gent women — one  of  them  a  student  of  history; 

[  264] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

but  what  do  they  know  of  parties,  and  platforms, 
and  political  issues  in  general  ?" 

Perkins  is  less  violently  prejudiced  than  Julius 
Caesar.  He  neither  saws  the  air  nor  pounds  on 
the  table.  Indeed,  I  have  no  doubt  he  believes 
that  he  entertains  liberal,  unbiassed  views  on  the 
subjed.  I  wonder,  then,  why  it  never  occurs  to 
him  that  everything  which  is  new  is  adopted 
gradually,  and  that  the  world  has  to  get  accus- 
tomed to  all  novel  situations.  I  happened  to  see 
Mr.  Perkins  the  first  time  he  rode  a  bicycle  on 
the  road,  and  his  performance  certainly  justified 
the  prediftion  that  he  would  look  like  a  guy  to 
the  end  of  his  days,  and  yet  he  glides  past  me 
now  with  the  ease  and  nonchalance  of  a  possible 
"scorcher.''  Similarly,  if  women  were  given  uni- 
versal suffrage,  there  would  be  a  deal  of  fluttering 
in  the  dove-cotes  for  the  first  generation  or  so. 
Doubtless  four-fifths  of  womankind  would  re- 
fuse or  negled  to  vote  at  all,  and  at  least  a  quarter 
of  those  who  went  to  the  polls  would  cast  their 
ballots  as  tools  or  blindly.  But  just  so  soon  as  it 
was  understood  that  it  was  no  less  a  woman's 
duty  to  vote  than  it  was  to  attend  to  her  back 
hair,  she  would  be  educated  from  that  point  of 
view,  and  her  present  crass  ignorance  of  political 

[265  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

matters  would  be  changed  into  at  least  a  form  of 
enlightenment.  Man  prides  himself  on  his  logic, 
but  there  is  nothing  logical  in  the  argument  that 
because  a  woman  knows  nothing  about  anything 
now,  she  can  never  be  taught.  If  we  have  been 
content  to  have  her  remain  ignorant  for  so  many 
centuries,  does  it  not  savor  both  of  despotism  and 
lack  of  reasonableness  to  cast  her  ignorance  in 
her  teeth  and  to  beat  her  about  the  head  with 
it  now  that  she  is  eager  to  rise  ?  Decidedly  it  is 
high  time  for  the  man  who  orates  tempestuously 
or  argues  dogmatically  in  the  name  of  conserva- 
tism against  the  cause  of  woman  on  such  flimsy 
pleas  as  these,  to  cease  his  gesticulations  and  wise 
saws.  The  modern  woman  is  a  potential  reality, 
who  is  bound  to  develop  and  improve,  in  an- 
other generation  or  two,  as  far  beyond  the  pre- 
sent interesting  type  as  Mrs.  Julius  Caesar  is  an 
advance  on  her  great-grandmother. 

On  the  other  hand,  why  do  those  who  have 
woman's  cause  at  heart  lay  such  formal  stress  on 
the  right  of  the  ballot  as  a  faftor  in  her  develop- 
ment ?  There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  if  the  ma- 
jority of  women  wish  to  vote  on  questions  in- 
volving property  or  political  interests,  they  will 
be  enabled  to  do  so  sooner  or  later.  It  is  chiefly 
[  266  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

now  the  convidion  in  the  minds  of  legislatures 
that  a  large  number  of  the  intelligent  women  of 
their  communities  do  not  desire  to  exercise  the 
right  of  suffrage  which  keeps  the  bars  down. 
Doubtless  these  bodies  will  yield  one  after  an- 
other to  the  clamor  of  even  a  few,  and  the  ex- 
periment will  be  tried.  It  may  not  come  this  year 
or  the  next,  but  many  busy  people  are  so  cer- 
tain that  its  coming  is  merely  a  question  of  time 
that  they  do  not  allow  themselves  to  be  drawn 
into  the  fury  of  the  fray.  When  it  comes,  how- 
ever, it  will  come  as  a  universal  privilege,  and 
not  with  a  social  or  property  qualification.  I  men- 
tion this  simply  for  the  enlightenment  of  those 
amiable  members  of  the  sex  to  be  enfranchised 
who  go  about  sighing  and  simpering  in  the  in- 
terest of  drawing  the  line.  That  question  was 
settled  a  century  ago.  The  adtion  taken  may  have 
been  an  error  on  the  part  of  those  who  framed 
the  laws,  but  it  has  been  settled  forever.  There 
would  be  no  more  chance  of  the  passage  by  the 
legislature  of  one  of  the  United  States  of  a  statute 
giving  the  right  of  suffrage  to  a  limited  class  of 
women  than  there  would  be  of  one  prescribing 
that  only  the  good-looking  members  of  that  sex 
should  be  allowed  to  marry. 

[  267  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

Many  people,  who  believe  that  woman  should 
be  denied  no  privilege  enjoyed  by  man  which  she 
really  desires  to  exercise,  find  much  difficulty  in 
regarding  the  right  of  suffrage  as  the  vital  end 
which  it  assumes  in  the  minds  of  its  advocates. 
One  would  suppose,  by  the  clamor  on  the  subjed, 
that  the  ballot  would  enable  her  to  change  her 
spots  in  a  twinkling,  and  to  become  an  absolutely 
different  creation.  Lively  imaginations  do  not 
hesitate  to  compare  the  proposed  ad  of  emanci- 
pation with  the  release  of  the  colored  race  from 
bondage.  We  are  appealed  to  by  glowing  rhet- 
oric which  celebrates  the  equity  of  the  case  and 
the  moral  significance  of  the  impending  vidtory. 
But  the  orators  and  triumphants  stop  short  at  the 
passage  of  the  law  and  fail  to  tell  us  what  is  to 
come  after.  We  are  assured,  indeed,  that  it  will 
be  all  right,  and  that  woman's  course  after  the 
Rubicon  is  crossed  will  be  one  grand  march  of 
progress  to  the  music  of  the  spheres  ;  but,  bar- 
ring a  paean  of  this  sort,  we  are  given  no  light  as 
to  what  she  intends  to  do  and  become.  She  has 
stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  rattle  and  is  de- 
termined to  have  it,  but  she  does  not  appear  to 
entertain  any  very  definite  ideas  as  to  what  she 
is  going  to  do  with  it  after  she  has  it. 
[  268  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

Unquestionably,  the  development  of  the  mod- 
ern woman  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  features 
of  civilization  to-day.  But  is  it  not  true  that  the 
cause  of  woman  is  one  concern,  and  the  question 
of  woman  suffrage  another?  And  are  they  not  too 
often  confounded,  even  deliberately  confounded, 
by  those  who  are  willing  to  have  them  appear 
to  be  identical  ?  Supposing  that  to-morrow  the 
trumpet  should  sound  and  the  walls  of  Jericho 
fall,  and  every  woman  be  free  to  cast  her  indi- 
vidual ballot  without  let  or  hindrance  from  one 
confine  of  the  civilized  world  to  another,  what 
would  it  amount  to  after  all  by  way  of  elucidating 
the  question  of  her  future  evolution  ?  For  it  must 
be  remembered  that,  apart  from  the  question  of 
her  development  in  general,  those  who  are  clamor- 
ing for  the  ballot  have  been  superbly  vague  so 
far  as  to  the  precise  part  which  the  gentle  sex  is 
to  play  in  the  political  arena  after  she  gets  her 
rattle.  They  put  their  sisters  off  with  the  gen- 
eral assertion  that  things  in  the  world,  politically 
speaking,  will  be  better,  but  neither  their  sisters 
nor  their  brothers  are  able  to  get  a  distind:  notion 
of  the  platform  on  which  woman  means  to  stand 
after  she  becomes  a  voter.  Is  she  going  to  enter 
into  competition  with  men  for  the  prizes  and  of- 

[  269] 


The    Art    of  Living 

fices,  to  argue,  manipulate,  hustle,  and  do  gen- 
erally the  things  which  have  to  be  done  in  the 
name  of  political  zeal  and  aftivity?  Is  it  within 
the  vista  of  her  ambition  to  become  a  member  of, 
and  seek  to  control,  legislative  bodies,  to  be  a 
police  commissioner  or  a  member  of  Congress? 
Those  in  the  van  decline  to  answer,  or  at  least 
they  do  not  answer.  It  may  be,  to  be  sure,  the 
wisdom  of  the  serpent  which  keeps  them  non- 
committal, for  they  stand,  as  it  were,  between  the 
devil  and  the  deep  sea  in  that,  though  they  and 
their  supporters  would  perhaps  like  to  declare 
boldly  in  favor  of  competition,  or  at  least  par- 
ticipation, in  the  duties  and  honors,  they  stand 
in  wholesome  awe  of  the  hoarse  murmur  from 
the  ranks  of  their  sisters,  "  We  don't  wish  to  be 
like  men,  and  we  have  no  intention  of  competing 
with  them  on  their  own  lines."  Accordingly,  the 
leaders  seek  refuge  in  the  safe  but  indefinite  as- 
sertion that  of  course  women  will  never  become 
men,  but  they  have  thus  far  negleded  to  tell  us 
what  they  are  to  become. 

It  really  seems  as  though  it  were  time  for  wo- 
man, in  general  congress  of  the  women's  clubs 
assembled,  to  make  a  reasonably  full  and  clear 
statement  of  her  aims  and  principles — a  declar- 

[  270  ] 


The    Case    of  Woman 

ation  of  faith  which  shall  give  her  own  sex  and 
men  the  opportunity  to  know  precisely  what  she 
is  driving  at.  Her  progress  for  the  last  hundred 
years  has  been  gratifying  to  the  world,  with  the 
exception  of  pig-headed  or  narrow-minded  men, 
and  civilization  has  been  inestimably  benefitted 
by  the  broadening  of  her  intelligence  and  her  in- 
terests. But  she  has  now  reached  a  point  where 
there  is  a  parting  of  the  ways,  and  the  world 
would  very  much  like  to  know  which  she  in- 
tends to  take.  The  atmosphere  of  the  women's 
clubs  is  mysterious  but  unsuggestive,  and  con- 
sequently many  of  us  feel  inclined  to  murmur 
with  the  poet,  "it  is  clever,  but  we  don't  know 
what  it  means.''  Unrepressed  nervous  mental 
adivity  easily  becomes  social  affeftation  or  tom- 
foolery, in  the  absence  of  a  controlling  aim  or 
purpose.  To  exhaust  one's  vitality  in  papers  or 
literary  teas,  merely  to  express  or  simulate  Indi- 
vidual culture  or  freedom,  may  not  land  one  in 
an  insane  asylum,  but  it  is  about  as  valuable  to 
society,  as  an  educating  force,  as  the  revolutions 
of  the  handle  of  a  freezer,  when  the  crank  is  off, 
are  valuable  to  the  produ6lion  of  ice-cream.  For 
the  benefit  of  such  a  congress,  if  haply  it  should 
be  called  together  later,  it  will  not  be  out  of 
[  271   ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

place  to  offer  a  few  suggestions  as  to  her  future 
evolution.  In  this  connection  it  seems  to  me  im- 
perative to  go  back  to  the  original  poetic  con- 
ception of  woman  as  the  wife  and  mother,  the 
domestic  helpmate  and  loving,  self-abnegating 
companion  of  man.  Unedifying  as  this  formula 
of  description  may  seem  to  the  adive-minded 
modern  woman,  it  is  obvious  that  under  exist- 
ing physiological  conditions  she  must  remain 
the  wife  and  mother,  even  though  she  declines 
to  continue  domestic,  loving,  and  self-abnegat- 
ing. And  side  by  side  with  physiological  condi- 
tions stands  the  intangible,  ineffable  force  of 
sexual  love,  the  poetic,  entrancing  ecstasy  which 
no  scientist  has  yet  been  able  to  reduce  to  a 
myth  or  to  explode.  Schopenhauer,  to  be  sure, 
would  have  us  believe  that  it  is  merely  a  delusion 
by  which  nature  seeks  to  reproduce  herself,  but 
even  on  this  material  basis  the  women's  clubs 
find  themselves  face  to  face  with  an  enemy  more 
determined  than  any  Amazon.  A  maid  deluded 
becomes  the  sorriest  of  club  members. 

What  vision  of  life  is  nobler  and  more  exqui- 
site than  that  of  complete  and  ideal  marital  hap- 
piness ?  To  find  it  complete  and  ideal  the  mod- 
ern woman,  with  all  her  charms  and  abilities, 

[  272  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

must  figure  in  it,  I  grant;  the  mere  domestic 
drudge;  the  tame,  amiable  house-cat;  the  doting 
doll,  are  no  longer  pleasing  parties  of  the  second 
part.  To  admit  so  much  as  this  may  seem  to  of- 
fer room  for  the  argument  that  the  modern  wo- 
man of  a  hundred  years  hence  will  make  her  of 
the  poet's  dream  of  to-day  appear  no  less  pitia- 
ble; but  there  we  men  are  ready  to  take  issue. 
We  admit  our  past  tyranny,  we  cry  "Peccavi," 
yet  we  claim  at  the  same  time  that,  having  taken 
her  to  our  bosoms  as  our  veritable,  loving  com- 
panion and  helpmate,  there  is  no  room  left,  or 
very  little  room  left,  for  more  progress  in  that 
particular  direction.  Her  next  steps,  if  taken,  will 
be  on  new  lines,  not  by  way  of  making  herself 
an  equal.  And  therefore  it  is  that  we  suggest  the 
vision  of  perfed  modern  marital  happiness  as 
the  leading  consideration  to  be  taken  into  ac- 
count in  dealing  with  this  question.  Even  in  the 
past,  when  woman  was  made  a  drudge  and  en- 
couraged to  remain  a  fool,  the  poetry  and  joy  and 
stimulus  of  life  for  her,  as  well  as  for  her  despot 
mate,  lay  in  the  mystery  of  love,  its  joys  and  re- 
sponsibilities. Even  then,  if  her  life  were  robbed 
of  the  opportunity  to  love  and  be  loved,  its  savor 
was  gone,  however  free  she  might  be  from  mas- 

[  273  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

culine  tyranny  and  coercion.  Similarly,  after 
making  due  allowance  for  the  hyperbole  as  to 
the  influence  which  woman  has  on  man  when  he 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  ad:  to  the  contrary, 
there  is  no  power  which  works  for  righteous- 
ness upon  him  comparable  to  the  influence  of 
woman.  There  is  always  the  possibility  that  the 
woman  a  man  loves  may  not  be  consciously 
working  for  righteousness,  but  the  fad:  that  he 
believes  so  is  the  essential  truth,  even  though 
he  be  the  vidim  of  self-delusion.  This  element 
of  the  case  is  pertinent  to  the  question  whether 
woman  would  really  try  to  reform  the  world,  if 
she  had  the  chance,  rather  than  to  this  particu- 
lar consideration.  The  point  of  the  argument  is 
that  the  dependence  of  each  sex  on  the  other, 
and  the  loving  sympathy  between  them,  which 
is  born  of  dissimilarity,  is  the  salt  of  human  life. 
The  eternal  feminine  is  what  we  prize  in  woman, 
and  wherever  she  defleds  from  this  there  does 
her  power  wane  and  her  usefulness  become  im- 
paired. And  conversely,  the  more  and  the  higher 
she  advances  along  the  lines  of  her  own  nature, 
the  better  for  the  world.  Nor  does  the  claim  that 
she  has  been  hampered  hitherto,  and  conse- 
quently been  unable  to  show  what  her  attributes 
[  274  ] 


I 


The    Case    of   Woman 

really  are,  seem  relevant;  for  it  is  only  when  she 
develops  in  direftions  which  threaten  to  clash 
with  the  eternal  feminine  that  she  encounters 
opposition  or  serious  criticism.  And  here  even 
the  excitability  and  unreasonableness  of  such 
men  as  our  friend  Julius  Caesar  find  a  certain  jus- 
tification. Their  fumes  and  fury,  however  unin- 
telligent, proceed  from  an  instinftive  repugnance 
to  the  departure  or  deviation  from  nature  which 
they  find,  or  fear  to  find,  in  the  modern  woman. 
Once  let  them  realize  that  there  was  no  danger 
of  anything  of  the  kind,  and  they  would  become 
gentle  as  doves,  if  not  all  smiles  and  approval. 
There  is  no  more  beautiful  and  refining  influ- 
ence in  the  world  than  that  of  an  attradive  and 
noble  woman.  Unselfishness,  tenderness,  aspir- 
ing sentiment,  long-suifering  devotion,  grace, 
tad,  and  quickly  divining  intelligence  are  her 
prerogatives,  and  she  stands  an  ever-watchful 
guardian  angel  at  the  shoulder  of  man.  The  lead- 
ing poetic  and  elevating  associations  of  life  are 
linked  with  her  name.  The  lover's  passion,  the 
husband's  worship,  the  son's  reverential  aflfeftion 
are  inspired  by  her.  The  strong  man  stays  his 
hand  and  sides  with  mercy  or  honor  when  his 
mother  speaks  within  him.  In  homelier  language, 

[  275  ] 


T'he    Art    of  Living 

she  is  the  keeper  of  the  hearth  and  home,  the 
protedor  and  trainer  of  her  children,  the  adviser, 
consoler,  and  companion  of  her  husband,  father, 
son,  brother,  or  other  masculine  associates. 

Now,  the  modern  woman,  up  to  this  point, 
has  been  disposed,  on  the  whole,  to  regard  this 
as  the  part  which  she  is  to  play  in  the  drama  of 
life.  At  least  she  has  not  materially  deviated  from 
it.  Her  progress  has  been  simply  in  the  way  of 
enabling  her  to  play  that  part  more  intelligently 
and  worthily,  and  not  toward  usurpation,  except- 
ing that  she  claims  the  right  to  earn  her  daily 
bread.  Higher  education  in  its  various  branches 
has  been  the  most  signal  fruit  of  her  struggle  for 
enlightenment  and  liberty,  and  this  is  certainly 
in  entire  keeping  with  the  eternal  feminine,  and 
to-day  seems  indispensable  to  her  suitable  de- 
velopment. By  means  of  education  similar  to 
that  lavished  upon  man  she  has  been  enabled,  it 
is  true,  to  obtain  employment  of  various  kinds 
hitherto  withheld  from  her,  but  the  positions  of 
professor,  teacher,  nurse,  artist,  and  clerk,  are 
amplifications  of  her  natural  aptitudes  rather  than 
encroachments.  She  has,  however,  finally  reached 
the  stage  where  she  will  soon  have  to  decide  whe- 
ther the  hearth  and  the  home  or  down-town  is  to 

[  276  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

be  the  principal  theatre  of  her  adlivity  and  influ- 
ence. Is  she  or  is  she  not  to  participate  with  man 
in  the  tangible,  obvious  management  of  the  af- 
fairs of  the  world  ? 


[  277  ] 


The    Case    of  Woman. 
II. 


|HE  mystic  oracles  of  the  women's 
i^  X  clubs  do  not  give  a  straightforward 
answer  to  this  question.  Yet  there  are 
mutterings,  mouthings,  and  signs 
from  them  which  tend  to  arouse  masculine  sus- 
picions. To  use  a  colloquialism,  woman  fancies 
herself  very  much  at  present,  and  she  spends  con- 
siderable time  in  studying  the  set  of  her  mind  in 
the  looking-glass.  And  her  serenity  is  justified. 
In  spite  of  ridicule,  baiting,  and  delay  for  several 
generations,  she  has  demonstrated  her  ability  and 
fitness  to  do  a  number  of  things  which  we  had 
adjudged  her  incapable  of  doing.  She  can  almost 
take  care  of  herself  in  the  street  after  dark.  She 
has  become  a  most  valuable  member  of  commit- 
tees to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  poor,  the 
sick,  and  the  insane.  She  has  become  the  presi- 
dent and  professors  of  colleges  founded  in  her 
behalf.  The  noble  and  numerous  army  of  teach- 
ers, typewriters,  salesladies,  nurses,  and  women 
doftors  (including  Christian  Scientists),  stands 
as  ample  proof  of  her  intention  and  capacity  to 
strike  out  for  herself.  No  wonder,  perhaps,  that 

[278  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

she  is  a  little  delirious  and  mounted  in  the  head, 
and  that  she  is  tempted  to  exclaim, "  Go  to,  I  will 
do  more  than  this.  Why  should  I  not  praftise 
law,  and  sell  stocks,  wheat,  corn,  and  exchange, 
control  the  money  markets  of  the  world,  admin- 
ister trusts,  manage  corporations,  sit  in  Congress, 
and  be  President  of  the  United  States?" 

The  only  things  now  done  by  man  which  the 
modern  woman  has  not  yet  begun  to  cast  sheep's 
eyes  at  are  labor  requiring  much  physical  strength 
and  endurance,  and  military  service.  She  is  pre- 
pared to  admit  that  she  can  never  exped:  to  be  so 
muscular  and  powerful  in  body  as  man.  But  this 
has  become  rather  a  solace  than  a  source  of  per- 
plexity to  her.  Indeed,  the  women's  clubs  are 
beginning  to  whisper  under  their  breath,  "Man 
is  fitted  to  build  and  hew  and  cut  and  lift,  and  to 
do  everything  which  demands  brute  force.  We 
are  not.  We  should  like  to  think,  plan,  and  exe- 
cute. Let  him  do  the  heavy  work.  If  he  wishes 
to  fight  he  may.  Wars  are  wicked,  and  we  shall 
vote  against  them  and  refuse  to  take  part  in 
them." 

If  woman  is  going  in  for  this  sort  of  thing,  of 
course  she  needs  the  ballot.  If  she  intends  to 
manage  corporations  and  do  business  generally, 
[  279  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

she  ought  to  have  a  voice  In  the  framing  of  the 
laws  which  manifest  the  policy  of  the  state.  But 
to  earn  one's  living  as  a  college  professor,  nurse, 
typewriter,  saleslady,  or  clerk,  or  to  sit  on  boards 
of  charity,  education,  or  hygiene,  is  a  far  remove 
from  becoming  bank  presidents,  merchants, 
judges,  bankers,  or  members  of  Congress.  The 
one  affords  the  means  by  which  single  women  can 
earn  a  decent  and  independent  livelihood,  or  de- 
vote their  energies  to  work  useful  to  society;  the 
other  would  necessitate  an  absolute  revolution 
in  the  habits,  tastes,  interests,  proclivities,  and 
nature  of  woman.  The  noble  army  of  teachers, 
typewriters,  nurses,  and  salesladies  are  in  the 
heels  of  their  boots  hoping  to  be  married  some 
day  or  other.  They  have  merely  thrown  an 
anchor  to  windward  and  taken  up  a  calling  which 
will  enable  them  to  live  reasonably  happy  if  the 
right  man  does  not  appear,  or  passes  by  on  the 
other  side.  Those  who  sit  on  boards,  and  who 
are  more  apt  to  be  middle-aged,  are  but  inter- 
preting and  fulfilling  the  true  mission  of  the  mod- 
ern woman,  which  is  to  supplement  and  modify 
the  point  of  view  of  man,  and  to  extend  the  kind 
of  influence  which  she  exercises  at  home  to  the 
condud  of  public  interests  of  a  certain  class. 
[  280  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

Now,  some  one  must  keep  house.  Some  one 
must  cook,  wash,  dust,  sweep,  darn,  look  after 
the  children,  and  in  general  grease  the  wheels  of 
domestic  aftivity.  If  women  are  to  become  mer- 
chants, and  manage  corporations,  who  will  bring 
up  our  families  and  manage  the  home  ?  The  ma- 
jority of  the  noble  army  referred  to  are  not  able 
to  escape  from  making  their  own  beds  and  cook- 
ing their  own  breakfasts.  If  they  occupied  other 
than  comparatively  subordinate  positions  they 
would  have  to  call  Chinatown  to  the  rescue ;  for 
the  men  would  decline  with  thanks,  relying  on 
their  brute  force  to  proteft  them,  and  the  other 
women  would  toss  their  heads  and  say  "Make 
your  own  beds,  you  nasty  things.  We  prefer  to 
go  to  town  too."  In  fad:  the  emancipation  of 
women,  so  far  as  it  relates  to  usurpation  of  the 
work  of  man,  does  not  mean  much  in  adual 
pradice  yet,  in  spite  of  the  brave  show  and  bus- 
tle of  the  noble  army.  The  salesladies  get  their 
meals  somehow,  and  the  domestic  hearth  is  still 
presided  over  by  the  mistress  of  the  house  and 
her  daughters.  But  this  cannot  continue  to  be 
the  case  if  women  are  going  to  do  everything 
which  men  do  except  lift  weights  and  fight.  For 
we  all  know  that  our  mothers,  wives,  and  sisters, 

[  281  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

according  to  their  own  affidavits,  have  all  they 
can  do  already  to  fulfil  the  requirements  of  mod- 
ern life  as  mothers,  wives,  and  sisters  in  the  con- 
ventional yet  modern  sense.  Many  of  them  tell 
us  that  they  would  not  have  time  to  vote,  to  say 
nothing  of  qualifying  themselves  to  vote.  Indis- 
putably they  cannot  become  men  and  yet  remain 
women  in  the  matter  of  their  daily  occupations, 
unless  they  discover  some  new  panacea  against 
nervous  prostration.  The  professions  are  open; 
the  laws  will  allow  them  to  establish  banks  and 
control  corporate  interests ;  but  what  is  to  be- 
come of  the  eternal  feminine  in  the  pow-wow, 
bustle,  and  materializing  rush  and  competition  of 
adlive  business  life  ?  Whatever  a  few  individuals 
may  do,  there  seems  to  be  no  immediate  or  prob- 
ably eventual  prosped  of  a  throwing  off  by  wo- 
man of  domestic  ties  and  duties.  Her  physical 
and  moral  nature  alike  are  formidable  barriers 
in  the  way. 

Why,  then,  if  women  are  not  going  to  usurp 
or  share  to  any  great  extent  the  occupations  of 
men,  and  become  familiar  with  the  practical  work- 
ings of  professional,  business,  and  public  affairs, 
are  they  ever  likely  to  be  able  to  judge  so  intel- 
ligently as  men  as  to  the  needs  of  the  state  ?  To 
[  282  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

hear  many  people  discuss  the  subjed,  one  would 
suppose  that  all  the  laws  passed  by  legislative 
bodies  were  limited  to  questions  of  ethics  and 
morality.  If  all  political  adion  were  reduced  to 
debates  and  ballots  on  the  use  of  liquor,  the  social 
evil,  and  other  moral  or  humanitarian  topics,  the 
claim  that  women  ought  to  be  allowed  and  en- 
couraged to  vote  would  be  much  stronger — that 
is,  assuming  that  she  herself  preferred  to  use  her 
influence  direftly  instead  of  indiredly.  But  the 
advocates  of  female  suffrage  seem  to  forget  that 
three-fifths  of  the  laws  passed  relate  to  matters 
remotely  if  at  all  bearing  upon  ethics,  and  involve 
considerations  of  public  policy  from  the  point  of 
view  of  what  is  best  for  the  interests  of  the  state 
and  the  various  classes  of  individuals  which  com- 
pose it.  We  do  not  always  remember  in  this  age 
of  afternoon  teas  and  literary  papers  that  the  state 
is  after  all  an  artificial  body,  a  form  of  compad: 
under  which  human  beings  agree  to  live  together 
for  mutual  benefit  and  protection.  Before  culture, 
aestheticism,  or  even  ethics  can  be  maintained 
there  must  be  a  readiness  and  ability  to  fight,  if 
the  necessity  arises,  and  a  capacity  to  do  heavy 
work.  Moreover,  there  must  be  ploughed  fields 
and  ship-yards  and  grain-elevators  and  engines 

[  ^83  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

and  manufaftories,  and  all  the  divers  forms  and 
phases  of  industrial  and  commercial  endeavor  and 
enterprise  by  which  men  earn  their  daily  bread. 
If  woman  is  going  to  participate  in  the  material 
aftivities  of  the  community  she  will  be  fit  to  deal 
with  the  questions  which  relate  thereto,  but  oth- 
erwise she  must  necessarily  remain  unable  to  form 
a  satisfadory  judgment  as  to  the  merits  of  more 
than  one-half  the  measures  upon  which  she  would 
be  obliged  to  vote.  Nor  is  it  an  argument  in  point 
that  a  large  body  of  men  is  in  the  same  predica- 
ment. Two  evils  do  not  make  a  benefit.  There 
is  a  suflicient  number  of  men  conversant  with 
every  separate  praftical  question  which  arises  to 
insure  an  intelligent  examination  of  it.  The  es- 
sential consideration  is,  what  would  the  state  gain, 
if  woman  suffrage  were  adopted,  except  an  en- 
larged constituency  of  voters  ?  What  would  wo- 
man, by  means  of  the  ballot,  add  to  the  better 
or  smoother  development  of  the  social  system 
under  which  we  live  ? 

Unless  the  eternal  feminine  is  to  be  sacrificed 
or  to  suflTer,  it  seems  to  me  that  her  sole  influence 
would  be  an  ethical  or  moral  one.  There  are  cer- 
tainly strong  grounds  for  the  assumption  that 
she  would  point  the  way  to,  or  at  least  champion, 

[284] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

the  cause  of  reforms  which  man  has  perpetually 
dilly-dallied  with  and  failed  to  do  battle  for.  To 
be  sure,  many  of  her  most  virtuous  endeavors 
would  be  likely  to  be  focussed  on  matters  where 
indulgences  and  weaknesses  chiefly  masculine 
were  concerned — such  as  the  liquor  problem; 
but  an  alliance  between  her  vote  and  that  of  the 
minority  of  men  would  probably  be  a  blessing  to 
the  world,  even  though  she  showed  herself  some- 
what a  tyrant  or  a  fanatic.  Her  advocacy  of  mea- 
sures calculated  to  relieve  society  of  abuses  and 
curses,  which  have  continued  to  afflift  it  because 
men  have  been  only  moderately  in  earnest  for  a 
change,  could  scarcely  fail  to  produce  valuable 
results.  Perhaps  this  is  enough  in  itself  to  out- 
weigh the  ignorance  which  she  would  bring  to 
bear  on  matters  which  did  not  involve  ethical  or 
humanitarian  principles;  and  it  is  indisputably 
the  most  legitimate  argument  in  favor  of  woman 
suffrage.  The  notion  that  women  ought  to  vote 
simply  because  men  do  is  childish  and  born  of 
vanity.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  state  is  to  be  a 
gainer  by  her  participation  in  the  perplexities  of 
voting,  the  case  takes  on  a  very  different  asped. 
I  have  been  assuming  that  the  influence  of 
woman  would  be  in  behalf  of  ethics,  but  my  wife 

[285  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

Barbara  assures  me  that  I  am  thereby  begging 
the  question.  She  informs  me  that  I  have  too  ex- 
alted an  idea  of  woman  and  her  aims.  She  has 
confided  to  me  that,  though  there  is  a  number  of 
noble  and  forceful  women  in  every  community, 
the  general  average,  though  prolific  of  moral  and 
religious  advice  to  men  by  way  of  fulfilling  a  sort 
of  traditional  feminine  duty,  is  at  heart  rather 
flighty  and  less  deeply  interested  in  social  pro- 
gress than  my  sex.  This  testimony,  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  reference  of  Julius  Caesar  to  the 
disillusioning  efFed  of  a  crowd  of  women  in  a 
drygoods  store,  introduces  a  new  element  into 
the  discussion.  Frankly,  my  estimate  of  women 
has  always  been  high,  and  possibly  unduly  ex- 
alted. It  may  be  I  have  been  deceived  by  the 
moral  and  religious  advice  offered  into  believing 
that  women  are  more  serious  than  they  really 
are.  Refleftion  certainly  does  cause  one  to  recol- 
lec5l:  that  comparatively  few  women  like  to  dwell 
on  or  to  discuss  for  more  than  a  few  minutes  any 
serious  subjed:  which  requires  earnest  thought. 
They  prefer  to  skim  from  one  thing  to  another 
like  swallows  and  to  avoid  dry  depths.  Those  in 
the  van  will  doubtless  answer  that  this  is  due  to 
the  unfortunate  training  which  woman  has  been 
[  286  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

subjeded  to  for  so  many  generations.  True,  in  a 
measure ;  but  ought  she  not,  before  she  is  allowed 
to  vote,  on  the  plea  of  bringing  benefit  to  the  state 
as  an  ethical  adviser,  to  demonstrate  by  more 
than  words  her  ethical  superiority? 

We  all  know  that  women  drink  less  intoxi- 
cating liquor  than  men,  and  are  less  addifted  to 
fleshly  excesses.  Yet  the  whole  mental  temper 
and  make-up  of  each  sex  ought  to  be  taken  into 
account  in  comparing  them  together;  and  with 
all  the  predisposition  of  a  gallant  and  suscepti- 
ble man  to  say  the  complimentary  thing,  I  find 
myself  asking  the  question  whether  the  average 
woman  does  not  prefer  to  jog  along  on  aworsted- 
work-domestic- trusting-religious-advice-giving 
basis,  rather  than  to  grapple  in  a  serious  way  with 
the  formidable  problems  of  living.  At  any  rate 
I,  for  one,  before  the  right  of  suflfrage  is  be- 
stowed upon  her,  would  like  to  be  convinced 
that  she  as  a  sex  is  really  earnest-minded.  If  one 
stops  to  think,  it  is  not  easy  to  show  that,  ex- 
cepting where  liquor,  other  women,  and  rigid 
attendance  at  church  are  concerned,  she  has  been 
wont  to  show  any  very  decided  bent  for,  or  in- 
terest in,  the  great  reforms  of  civilization — that 
is,    nothing   to    distinguish    her   from  a  well- 

[  287  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

equipped  and  thoughtful  man.  It  Is  significant, 
too,  that  where  women  in  this  country  have  been 
given  the  power  to  vote  in  local  affairs,  they  have 
in  several  instances  shown  themselves  to  be  more 
solicitous  for  the  triumph  of  a  religious  creed  or 
faftion  than  to  promote  the  public  welfare. 

It  is  extremely  probable,  if  not  certain,  that 
the  laws  of  all  civilized  states  will  eventually  be 
amended  so  as  to  give  women  the  same  voice 
in  the  affairs  of  government  as  men.  But  taking 
all  the  faftors  of  the  case  into  consideration, 
there  seems  to  be  no  pressing  haste  for  adion. 
Even  admitting  for  the  sake  of  argument  that 
woman's  apparent  lack  of  seriousness  is  due  to 
her  past  training,  and  that  she  is  really  the  ad- 
mirably earnest  spirit  which  one  is  lured  into 
believing  her  until  he  reflefts,  there  can  assuredly 
be  no  question  that  the  temper  and  proclivities 
of  the  very  large  mass  of  women  are  not  calcu- 
lated at  present  to  convid  man  of  a  lack  of  pur- 
pose by  virtue  of  shining  superiority  in  perse- 
vering mental  and  moral  aggressiveness.  Not 
merely  the  drygoods  counter  and  the  milliner's 
store  with  their  engaging  sedudions,  but  the 
ball-room,  the  fancy-work  pattern,  the  sensa- 
tional novel,  nervous  prostration,  the  school- 
[  288  ] 


The    Case    of   Woman 

girFs  giggle,  the  teapot  without  food,  and  a  host 
of  other  tell-tale  symptoms,  suggest  that  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  the  old  Eve  left  in  the  woman 
of  to-day.  And  bless  her  sweet  heart,  Adam  is 
in  no  haste  to  have  it  otherwise.  Indeed,  the 
eternal  feminine  seems  to  have  staying  qualities 
which  bid  fair  to  outlast  the  ages. 


[  289] 


The    ConduEi    of  Life, 
I. 

I^I^I^I^OW  that  more  than  a  century 

M-m.   -r  1^  has  elapsed  since  our  indepen- 

Ml^  1^  dence  as  a  nation  was  accom- 
Ml  plished,  and  we  are  sixty  million 
1^  |jy[  j]fc|  |]^  strong,  what  do  we  stand  for  in 
the  world  ?  What  is  meant  by  the  word  Ameri- 
can, and  what  are  our  salient  qualities  as  a  peo- 
ple ?  What  is  the  contribution  which  we  have 
made  or  are  making  to  the  progress  of  society 
and  the  advancement  of  civilization  ? 

There  certainly  used  to  be,  and  probably  there 
is,  no  such  egregiously  patriotic  individual  in  the 
world  as  an  indiscriminately  patriotic  American, 
and  there  is  no  more  familiar  bit  of  rhetoric  ex- 
tant than  that  this  is  the  greatest  nation  on  earth. 
The  type  of  citizen  who  gave  obtrusive  vent  to 
this  sentiment,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  is  less 
common  than  formerly;  nevertheless  his  clarion 
tones  are  still  invariably  to  be  heard  in  legisla- 
tive assemblies  when  any  opportunity  is  afforded 
to  draw  a  comparison  between  ourselves  and 
other  nations.  His  extravagant  and  highfalutin 
boastings  have  undoubtedly  been  the  occasion  of 
[  290  ] 


The    ConduSi    of  Life 

a  certain  amount  of  seemingly  lukewarm  patriot- 
ism on  the  part  of  the  educated  and  more  intel- 
ligent portion  of  the  American  public,  an  atti- 
tude which  has  given  foreigners  the  opportunity 
to  declare  that  the  best  Americans  are  ashamed 
of  their  own  institutions.  But  that  apparent  dis- 
position to  apologize  already  belongs  to  a  past 
time.  No  American,  unless  a  fool,  denies  to-day 
the  force  of  the  national  charader,  whatever  he 
or  she  may  think  of  the  behavior  of  individuals; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  is  it  not  true  that  every 
State  in  the  Union  has  a  rising  population  of 
young  and  middle-aged  people  who  have  dis- 
covered. Congress  and  the  public  schools  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding,  that  we  do  not  know 
everything,  and  that  the  pathway  of  national 
progress  is  more  full  of  perplexities  than  our 
forests  were  of  trees  when  Daniel  Boone  built 
his  log  cal;>in  in  the  wilds  of  Kentucky  ?  In  short, 
the  period  of  unintelligent  jubilation  on  one  side, 
and  carping  cynicism  on  the  other,  have  given 
place  to  a  soberer  self-satisfaftion.  We  cannot — 
why  should  we? — forget  that  our  territory  is 
enormous,  and  that  we  soon  shall  be,  if  we  are 
not  already,  the  richest  nation  on  earth;  that  the 
United  States  is  the  professed  asylum  and  Mecca 
[  291   ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

of  hope  for  the  despondent  and  oppressed  of 
other  countries;  and  that  we  are  the  cynosure 
of  the  universe,  as  being  the  most  important  ex- 
emplification of  popular  government  which  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  At  the  same  time,  the  claims 
put  forth  by  our  progenitors,  that  American  so- 
ciety is  vastly  superior  to  any  other,  and  that 
the  effete  world  of  Europe  is  put  to  the  blush 
by  the  civic  virtues  of  the  land  of  the  free  and 
the  home  of  the  brave,  are  no  longer  urged  ex- 
cept for  the  purposes  of  rodomontade.  The  ave- 
rage American  of  fifty  years  ago — especially  the 
frontiersman  and  pioneer,  who  swung  his  axe  to 
clear  a  homestead,  and  squirted  tobacco-juice 
while  he  tilled  the  prairie — really  believed  that 
our  customs,  opinions,  and  manner  of  living, 
whether  viewed  from  the  moral,  artistic,  or  in- 
telledual  standpoint,  were  a  vast  improvement 
on  those  of  any  other  nation. 

But  though  most  of  us  to-day  recognize  the 
absurdity  of  such  a  view,  we  are  most  of  us  at 
the  same  time  conscious  of  the  belief  that  there 
is  a  diflFerence  between  us  and  the  European 
which  is  not  imaginary,  and  which  is  the  secret 
of  our  national  force  and  originality.  Interna- 
tional intercourse  has  served  to  open  our  eyes 
[  292  ] 


The    ConduEi    of  Life 

until  they  have  become  as  wide  as  saucers,  with 
the  consequence  that,  in  hundreds  of  branches 
of  industry  and  art,  we  are  studying  Old  World 
methods;  moreover,  the  pioneer  strain  of  blood 
has  been  diluted  by  hordes  of  immigrants  of  the 
scum  of  the  earth.  In  spite  of  both  these  circum- 
stances, our  faith  in  our  originality  and  in  the 
value  of  it  remains  unshaken,  and  we  are  no  less 
sure  at  heart  that  our  salient  traits  are  noble  ones, 
than  the  American  of  fifty  years  ago  was  sure  that 
we  had  the  monopoly  of  all  the  virtues  and  all 
the  arts.  He  really  meant  only  what  we  mean, 
but  he  had  an  unfortunate  way  of  expressing 
himself  We  have  learned  better  taste,  and  we 
do  not  hesitate  nowadays  to  devote  our  native 
humor  to  hitting  hard  the  head  of  bunkum, 
which  used  to  be  as  sacred  as  a  Hindoo  god,  and 
as  rife  as  apple-blossoms  in  this  our  beloved 
country. 

What  is  the  recipe  for  Americanism — that  con- 
dition of  the  system  and  blood,  as  it  were,  which 
even  the  immigrant  without  an  ideal  to  his  own 
soul,  seems  often  to  acquire  to  some  extent  as 
soon  as  he  breathes  the  air  of  Castle  Garden  ? 
It  is  difficult  to  define  it  in  set  speech,  for  it 
seems  almost  an  illusive  and  intangible  quality 

[  293  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

of  being  when  fingered  and  held  up  to  the  light. 
It  seems  to  me  to  be,  first  of  all,  a  conscious- 
ness of  unfettered  individuality  coupled  with  a 
determination  to  make  the  most  of  self.  One 
great  force  of  the  American  chara6ler  is  its  nat- 
uralness, which  proceeds  from  a  total  lack  of 
traditional  or  inherited  disposition  to  crook  the 
knee  to  any  one.  It  never  occurs  to  a  good 
American  to  be  obsequious.  In  vulgar  or  igno- 
rant personalities  this  point  of  view  has  some- 
times manifested  itself,  and  continues  to  mani- 
fest itself,  in  swagger  or  insolence,  but  in  the 
finer  form  of  nature  appears  as  simplicity  of  an 
unassertive  yet  dignified  type.  Gracious  polite- 
ness, without  condescension  on  the  one  hand, 
or  fawning  on  the  other,  is  noticeably  a  trait  of 
the  best  element  of  American  society,  both 
among  men  and  women.  Indeed,  so  valuable  to 
charadler  and  ennobling  is  this  native  freedom 
from  servility,  that  it  has  in  many  cases  in  the 
past  made  odd  and  unconventional  manner  and 
behavior  seem  attraftive  rather  than  a  blemish. 
Unconventionality  is  getting  to  be  a  thing  of 
the  past  in  this  country,  and  the  representative 
American  is  at  a  disadvantage  now,  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  if  he  lacks  the  ways  of  the 
[  294  ] 


"Th e    Con duSi    of    Life 

best  social  world;  he  can  no  longer  afford  to  ig- 
nore cosmopolitan  usages,  and  to  rely  solely  on 
a  forceful  or  imposing  personality ;  the  world  of 
London  and  Paris,  of  New  York  and  Washing- 
ton and  Chicago,  has  ceased  to  thrill,  and  is 
scarcely  amused,  if  he  shows  himself  merely  in 
the  guise  of  a  splendid  intellectual  buffalo.  But 
the  best  Americanism  of  to-day  reveals  itself  no 
less  distinftly  and  unequivocally  in  simplicity 
bred  of  a  lack  of  self-consciousness  and  a  lack 
of  servility  of  mind.  It  seems  to  carry  with  it  a 
birthright  of  self-resped,  which,  if  fitly  worn, 
ennobles  the  humblest  citizen. 

This  national  quality  of  self-resped:  is  apt  to 
be  associated  with  the  desire  for  self-improve- 
ment or  success.  Indeed,  it  must  engender  it,  for 
it  provides  hope,  and  hope  is  the  touchstone  of 
energy.  The  great  energy  of  Americans  is  as- 
cribed by  some  to  the  climate,  and  it  is  proba- 
bly true  that  the  nervous  temperaments  of  our 
people  are  stimulated  by  the  atmospheric  con- 
ditions which  surround  us;  but  is  it  not  much 
more  true  that,  just  as  it  never  occurs  to  the 
good  American  to  be  servile,  so  he  feels  that  his 
outlook  upon  the  possibilities  of  life  is  not  lim- 
ited or  qualified,  and  that  the  world  is  really  his 

[  295  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

oyster?  To  be  sure,  this  faith  has  been  fostered 
by  the  almost  Aladdin-like  opportunities  which 
this  great  and  rich  new  country  of  ours  has  af- 
forded. But  whatever  the  reason  for  our  native 
energy  and  self-reliance,  it  indisputably  exists, 
and  is  signally  typical  of  the  American  charafter. 
We  are  distindly  an  ambitious,  earnest  people, 
eager  to  make  the  most  of  ourselves  individu- 
ally, and  we  have  attraded  the  attention  of  the 
world  by  force  of  our  independent  aftivity  of 
thought  and  adion.  The  extraordinary  person- 
ality of  Abraham  Lincoln  is  undoubtedly  the 
best  apotheosis  yet  presented  of  unadulterated 
Americanism.  In  him  the  native  stock  was  free 
from    the    foreign    influences    and  suggestions 
which  affefted,  more  or  less,  the  people  of  the 
East.  His  origin  was  of  the  humblest  sort,  and 
yet  he  presented  most  saliently  in  his  character 
the  naturalness,  nobility,  and  aspiring  energy  of 
the  nation.  He  made  the  most  of  himself  by 
virtue  of  unusual  abilities,  yet  the  key-note  of 
their  influence  and  force  was  a  noble  simplicity 
and  farsighted  independence.  In  him  the  quin- 
tessence of  the  Americanism  of  thirty  years  ago 
was  summed  up  and  expressed.  In  many  ways 
he  was  a  riddle  at  first  to  the  people  of  the  cities 


The    ConduB    of  Life 

of  the  East  in  that,  though  their  soul  was  his 
soul,  his  ways  had  almost  ceased  to  be  their 
ways;  but  he  stands  before  the  world  to-day  as 
the  foremost  interpreter  of  American  ideas  and 
American  temper  of  thought  as  they  then  existed. 
In  the  thirty  years  since  the  death  of  Abraham 
Lincoln  the  country  has  been  inundated  with  for- 
eign blood.  Irish,  Germans,  English,  Poles,  and 
Scandinavians,  mainly  of  the  pauper  or  peasant 
class,  have  landed  in  large  numbers,  settled  in 
one  State  or  another,  and  become  a  part  of  the 
population.  The  West,  at  the  time  of  the  Civil 
War,  was  chiefly  occupied  by  settlers  of  New 
England  or  Eastern  stock — pioneers  from  the 
older  cities  and  towns  who  had  sought  fortune 
and  a  freer  life  in  the  new  territory  of  prairies 
and  unappropriated  domain.  The  population  of 
the  whole  country  to-day  bears  many  different 
strains  of  blood  in  its  veins.  The  original  settlers 
have  chiefly  prospered.  The  sons  of  those  who 
split  rails  or  followed  kindred  occupations  in  the 
fifties,  and  listened  to  the  debates  between  Lin- 
coln and  Douglas,  are  the  proprietors  of  Chicago, 
Denver,  Cincinnati,  Minneapolis,  and  Topeka. 
Johann  Heintz  now  follows  the  plough  and  in 
turn  squirts  tobacco-juice  while  he  tills  the  prai- 

[  297  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

rie;  and  Louis  Levinsky,  Paul  PetrinofF,  and 
Michael  O'Neil  forge  the  plough-shares,  dig  in 
the  mine,  or  work  in  the  fadory  side  by  side  with 
John  Smith  and  any  descendant  of  Paul  Revere 
who  has  failed  to  prosper  in  life's  battle.  But  this 
is  not  all.  Not  merely  are  the  plain  people  in  the 
dilemma  of  being  unable  to  pronounce  the  names 
of  their  neighbors,  but  the  same  is  getting  to  be 
true  of  the  well-to-do  merchants  and  tradespeople 
of  many  of  our  cities.  The  argus-eyed  commer- 
cial foreigner  has  marked  us  for  his  own,  and  his 
kith  and  kin  are  to-day  coming  into  possession 
of  our  drygoods  establishments,  our  restaurants, 
our  cigar  stores,  our  hotels,  our  old  furniture 
haunts,  our  theatres,  our  jewelry  shops,  and  what 
not.  One  has  merely  to  open  a  diredory  in  order 
to  find  the  names  in  any  leading  branch  of  trade 
plentifully  larded  with  Adolph  Stein,  Simon  Levi, 
Gustave  Cohen,  or  something  ending  in  berger. 
They  sell  our  wool ;  they  float  our  loans ;  they 
manufacture  our  sugar,  our  whiskey,  and  our 
beer;  they  influence  Congress.  They  are  here 
for  what  they  can  make,  and  they  do  not  waste 
their  time  in  sentiment.  They  did  not  come  in 
time  to  reap  the  original  harvest,  but  they  have 
blown  across  the  ocean  to  help  the  free-born 

[  298  ] 


The    GonduSi    of  Life 

American  spend  his  money  in  the  process  of  try- 
ing to  out-civilize  Paris  and  London.  As  a  con- 
sequence, the  leading  wholesale  and  retail  orna- 
mental industries  of  New  York  and  of  some  of 
our  Western  cities  are  in  the  grip  of  individuals 
whose  surnames  have  a  foreign  twang.  Of  course, 
they  have  a  right  to  be  here  ;  it  is  a  free  country, 
and  no  one  can  say  them  nay.  But  we  must  take 
them  and  their  wives  and  daughters,  their  cus- 
toms and  their  opinions,  into  consideration  in 
making  an  estimate  of  who  are  the  Americans  of 
the  present.  They  have  not  come  here  for  their 
health,  as  the  phrase  is,  but  they  have  come  to 
stay.  We  at  present,  in  our  social  hunger  and 
thirst,  supply  the  grandest  and  dearest  market 
of  the  world  for  the  disposal  of  everything  beau- 
tiful and  costly  and  artistic  which  the  Old  World 
possesses,  and  all  the  shopkeepers  of  Europe, 
with  the  knowledge  of  generations  on  the  tips 
of  their  tongues  and  in  the  corners  of  their  brains, 
have  come  over  to  coin  dowries  for  their  daugh- 
ters in  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the 
brave.  Many  of  them  have  already  made  large 
fortunes  in  the  process,  and  are  beginning  to  con 
the  pages  of  the  late  Ward  McAllister's  book  on 
etiquette  with  a  view  to  social  aggressiveness. 

[  ^^99  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

Despite  this  infusion  of  foreign  blood,  the  na- 
tive stock  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  nomenclature  are 
still,  of  course,  predominant  in  numbers.  There 
are  some  portions  of  the  country  where  the  late 
immigrant  is  scarcely  to  be  found.  True  also  is 
it  that  these  late-comers,  like  the  immigrants  of 
fifty  years  ago,  have  generally  been  prompt  in 
appropriating  the  independent  and  energetic 
spirit  typical  of  our  people.  But  there  is  a  sig- 
nificant distinction  to  be  borne  in  mind  in  this 
connexion:  The  independent  energy  of  the 
Americans  of  fifty  years  ago,  whether  in  the  East 
or  among  the  pioneers  of  the  Western  frontier, 
was  not,  however  crude  its  manifestations,  mere 
bombastic  assertiveness,  but  the  expression  of  a 
faith  and  the  expression  of  strong  charafter. 
They  were  often  ignorant,  conceited,  narrow, 
hard,  and  signally  inartistic;  but  they  stood  for 
principle  and  right  as  they  saw  and  believed  it; 
they  cherished  ideals ;  they  were  firm  as  adamant 
in  their  convidions ;  and  God  talked  with  them 
whether  in  the  store  or  workshop,  or  at  the 
plough.  This  was  essentially  true  of  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  people,  no  less  true  and  perhaps 
more  true  of  the  humblest  citizens  than  of  the 
well-to-do  and  prominent. 

[  300  ] 


The    ConduSi    of  Life 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  foreign  ele- 
ment which  is  now  a  part  of  the  American  peo- 
ple represents  neither  a  faith  nor  the  expression 
of  ideals  or  convidions.  The  one,  and  the  largest 
portion  of  it,  is  the  overflow  and  riflf-rafF  of  the 
so-called  proletariat  of  Europe ;  the  other  is 
the  evidence  of  a  hyena-like  excursion  for  the 
purposes  of  plunder.  In  order  to  be  a  good 
American  it  is  not  enough  to  become  indepen- 
dent and  energetic.  The  desire  to  make  the  most 
of  one's  self  is  a  relative  term;  it  must  proceed 
from  principle  and  be  nourished  by  worthy,  ethi- 
cal aims;  otherwise  it  satisfies  itself  with  paltry 
conditions,  or  with  easy-going  florid  materialism. 
The  thieving  and  venality  in  municipal  political 
aflfairsof  the  Irish-American,  the  dull  squalor  and 
brutish  contentment  of  the  Russian-Pole,  and  the 
commercial  obliquity  of  vision  and  earthy  am- 
bitions of  the  German  Jew,  are  fadors  in  our 
national  life  which  are  totally  foreign  to  the 
Americanism  for  which  Abraham  Lincoln  stood. 
We  have  opened  our  gates  to  a  horde  of  eco- 
nomic ruffians  and  malcontents,  ethical  bankrupts 
and  social  thugs,  and  we  must  needs  be  on  our 
guard  lest  their  aims  and  point  of  view  be  so 
engrafted  on  the  public  conscience  as  to  sap  the 

[  301  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

vital  principles  which  are  the  foundation  of  our 
strength  as  a  people.  The  danger  from  this  source 
is  all  the  greater  from  the  fad:  that  the  point  of 
view  of  the  American  people  has  been  changed 
so  radically  during  the  last  thirty  years  as  a 
secondary  result  of  our  material  prosperity.  We 
have  ceased  to  be  the  austere  nation  we  once 
were,  and  we  have  sensibly  let  down  the  bars  in 
the  manner  of  our  living;  we  have  recognized 
the  value  of,  and  we  enjoy,  many  things  which 
our  fathers  put  from  them  as  inimical  to  repub- 
lican virtue  and  demoralizing  to  society.  Contad 
with  older  civilizations  has  made  us  wiser  and 
more  appreciative,  and  with  this  growth  of  per- 
spedive  and  the  acquirement  of  an  eye  for  color 
has  come  a  liberality  of  sentiment  which  threatens 
to  debauch  us  unless  we  are  careful.  There  are 
many,  especially  among  the  wealthy  and  fashion- 
able, who  in  their  ecstasy  over  our  emancipation 
are  disposed  to  throw  overboard  everything  which 
suggests  the  oldregime^^nd  to  introduce  any  cus- 
tom which  will  tend  to  make  life  more  easy-going 
and  spedacular.  And  in  this  they  are  supported 
by  the  immigrant  foreigner,  who  would  be  only 
too  glad  to  see  the  land  of  his  adoption  made  to 
conform  in  all  its  usages  to  the  land  of  his  birth. 
[  302  ] 


The    ConduEi    of  Life 

The  condud:  of  life  here  has  necessarily  and 
beneficially  been  aifefted  by  the  almost  general 
recognition  that  we  have  not  a  monopoly  of  all 
the  virtues,  and  by  the  adoption  of  many  cus- 
toms and  points  of  view  recommended  by  cos- 
mopolitan experience.  The  American  people  still 
believe,  however,  that  our  civilization  is  not 
merely  a  repetition  of  the  older  ones,  and  a  du- 
plication on  new  soil  of  the  old  social  treadmill. 
That  it  must  be  so  in  a  measure  every  one  will 
admit,  but  we  still  insist,  and  most  of  us  believe, 
that  we  are  to  point  the  way  to  a  new  dispensa- 
tion. We  believe,  but  at  the  same  time  when  we 
stop  to  think  we  find  some  difficulty  in  specify- 
ing exadly  what  we  are  doing  to  justify  the 
faith.  It  is  easy  enough  to  get  tangled  up  in 
the  stars  and  stripes  and  cry  "hurrah  !*'  and  to 
thrust  the  American  eagle  down  the  throats  of  a 
weary  universe,  but  it  is  quite  another  to  com- 
mand the  admiration  of  the  world  by  behavior 
commensurate  with  our  ambition  and  self-con- 
fidence. Our  forefathers  could  point  to  their  own 
nakedness  as  a  proof  of  their  greatness,  but  there 
seems  to  be  some  danger  that  we,  now  that  we 
have  clothed  ourselves — and  clothed  ourselves 
as  expensively  as  possible  and  not  always  in  the 

[  Z^Z  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

best  taste — will  forget  the  ideas  and  ideals  for 
which  those  fathers  stood,  and  let  ourselves  be 
seduced  by  the  specious  dodrine  that  human 
nature  is  always  human  nature,  and  that  all  civi- 
lizations are  alike.  To  be  sure,  an  American  now 
is  apt  to  look  and  a6l  like  any  other  rational  mor- 
tal, and  there  is  no  denying  that  the  Atlantic 
cable  and  ocean  greyhound  have  brought  the 
nations  of  the  world  much  closer  together  than 
they  ever  were  before;  but  this  merely  proves 
that  we  can  become  just  like  the  others,  only 
worse,  in  case  we  choose  to.  But  we  intend  to 
improve  upon  them. 

To  those  who  believe  that  we  are  going  to 
improve  upon  them  it  must  be  rather  an  edify- 
ing speftacle  to  observe  the  doings  and  sayings 
of  that  body  of  people  in  the  city  of  New  York 
who  figure  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day  as  "the 
four  hundred,"  "the  smart  set,"  or  "the  fashion- 
able world."  After  taking  into  full  account  the 
claims  of  the  sensitive  city  of  Chicago,  it  may 
be  truthfully  stated  that  the  city  of  New  York 
is  the  Paris  of  America.  There  are  other  muni- 
cipalities which  are  doing  their  best  in  their  sev- 
eral ways  to  rival  her,  but  it  is  toward  New  York 
that  all  the  eyes  in  the  country  are  turned,  and 
[  304  ] 


The    ConduSi    of  Life 

from  which  they  take  suggestion  as  a  cat  laps 
milk.  The  rest  of  us  are  in  a  measure  provincial. 
Many  of  us  profess  not  to  approve  of  New 
York,  but,  though  we  cross  ourselves  piously, 
we  take  or  read  a  New  York  daily  paper.  New 
York  gives  the  cue  alike  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury  and  (by  way  of  London)  to  the  social 
swell.  The  ablest  men  in  the  country  seek  New 
York  as  a  market  for  their  brains,  and  the  wealth- 
iest people  of  the  country  move  to  New  York 
to  spend  the  patrimony  which  their  rail-splitting 
fathers  or  grandfathers  accumulated.  Therefore 
it  is  perfectly  just  to  refer  to  the  social  life  of 
New  York  as  representative  of  that  element  of 
the  American  people  which  has  been  most  blessed 
with  brains  or  fortune,  and  as  representative  of 
our  most  highly  evolved  civilization.  It  ought  to 
be  our  best.  The  men  and  women  who  contri- 
bute to  its  movement  and  influence  ought  to  be 
the  pick  of  the  country.  But  what  do  we  find  ? 
We  find  as  the  ostensible  leaders  of  New  York 
society  a  set  of  shallow  worldlings  whose  whole 
existence  is  given  up  to  emulating  one  another 
in  elaborate  and  splendid  inane  social  fripperies. 
They  dine  and  wine  and  dance  and  entertain  from 
January  to  December.  Their  houses,  whether  in 
[  305  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

town  or  at  the  fashionable  watering-places  to 
which  they  move  in  summer,  are  as  sumptuous, 
if  not  more  so,  than  those  of  the  French  nobil- 
ity in  its  palmiest  days,  and  their  energies  are 
devoted  to  the  discovery  of  new  expensive  lux- 
uries and  fresh  titillating  creature  comforts.  That 
such  a  body  of  people  should  exist  in  this  coun- 
try after  little  more  than  a  century  of  democratic 
institutions  is  extraordinary,  but  much  more  ex- 
traordinary is  the  absorbing  interest  which  a  large 
portion  of  the  American  public  takes  in  the  do- 
ings and  sayings  of  this  fashionable  rump.  There 
is  the  disturbing  feature  of  the  case.  Whatever 
these  worldlings  do  is  flashed  over  the  entire 
country,  and  is  copied  into  a  thousand  newspa- 
pers as  being  of  vital  concern  to  the  health  and 
home  of  the  nation.  The  editors  print  it  because 
it  is  demanded;  because  they  have  found  that 
the  free-born  American  citizen  is  keenly  solici- 
tous to  know  "what  is  going  on  in  society,"  and 
that  he  or  she  follows  with  almost  feverish  in- 
terest and  with  open-mouthed  absorption  the 
spangled  and  jewelled  annual  social  circus  parade 
which  goes  on  in  the  Paris  of  America.  The  pub- 
lic is  indifferently  conscious  that  underneath  this 
frothy  upper-crust  in  New  York  there  is  a  large 

[  306  ] 


The    ConduEi    of  Life 

number  of  the  ablest  men  and  women  of  the 
country  by  whose  aftivities  the  great  educational, 
philanthropic,  and  artistic  enterprises  of  the  day 
have  been  fostered,  promoted,  and  made  suc- 
cessful; but  this  consciousness  pales  into  second- 
ary importance  in  the  democratic  mind  as  com- 
pared with  realistic  details  concerning  this  ball 
and  that  dinner-party  where  thousands  of  dol- 
lars are  poured  out  in  vulgar  extravagance,  or 
concerning  the  cost  of  the  wedding-presents,  the 
names  and  toilettes  of  the  guests,  and  the  num- 
ber of  bottles  of  champagne  opened  at  the  mar- 
riage of  some  millionaire's  daughter. 

No  wonder  that  this  aristocracy  of  ours  plumes 
itself  on  its  importance,  and  takes  itself  seriously 
when  it  finds  its  slightest  doings  telegraphed 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  It  feels  itself 
called  to  new  efforts,  for  it  understands  with  na- 
tive shrewdness  that  the  American  people  re- 
quires novelty  and  fresh  entertainment,  or  it 
looks  elsewhere.  Accordingly  it  is  beginning  to 
be  unfaithful  to  its  marriage  vows.  Until  within 
a  recent  period  the  husbands  and  wives  of  this 
vapid  society  have,  much  to  the  bewilderment 
of  warm-blooded  students  of  manners  and  mor- 
als, been  satisfied  to  flirt  and  produce  the  ap- 

[  307  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

pearance  of  infidelity,  and  yet  only  pretend.  Now 
the  divorce  court  and  the  whispered  or  public 
scandal  bear  frequent  testimony  to  the  fad:  that 
it  is  not  so  fashionable  or  "smart"  as  it  used  to 
be  merely  to  make  believe. 

Was  there  ever  a  foreign  court,  when  foreign 
courts  were  in  their  glory,  where  men  and  wo- 
men were  content  merely  to  whisper  and  giggle 
behind  a  rubber-tree  in  order  to  appear  vicious  ? 
It  may  be  said  at  least  that  some  of  our  fashion- 
ables have  learned  to  be  men  and  women  instead 
of  mere  simpering  marionettes.  Still  there  was 
originality  in  being  simpering  marionettes:  Mari- 
tal infidelity  has  been  the  favorite  excitement  of 
every  rotten  aristocracy  which  the  world  has 
ever  seen. 


[308  ] 


The    ConduEi    of  Life. 
II. 

«)W)M  MANNER  of  life  of  this  descrip- 
€^  A  5M)  ^^^^  ^^^  scarcely  be  the  ideal  of  the 
^^^^^^  American  people.  Certainly  neither 
^P'^^'h^  George  Washington,  when  he  deliv- 
ered his  farewell  address,  nor  Abraham  Lincoln, 
on  the  occasion  of  his  second  inaugural,  looked 
forward  to  the  evolution  of  any  such  aristocracy 
as  the  fulfilment  of  the  nation's  hopes.  And  yet 
this  coterie  of  people  has  its  representatives  in 
all  the  large  cities  of  the  country,  and  there  is 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  in  a  short  time  the  ex- 
ample set  will  be  imitated  to  some  extent,  at 
least,  and  that  one  portion  of  the  country  will 
vie  with  another  in  extravagant  social  vanities 
and  prodigal  display  on  the  part  of  a  pleasure- 
seeking  leisure  class. 

Most  of  these  people  go  to  church,  and,  in- 
deed, some  of  them  are  ostensibly  regardful  of 
church  functions  and  ceremonies,  and,  as  they 
do  not  openly  violate  any  laws  so  as  to  subjed 
themselves  to  terms  of  imprisonment,  the  patri- 
otic American  citizen  finds  himself  able  merely 
to  frown  by  way  of  showing  his  dissatisfaction 

[  309  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

at  this  form  of  high  treason  against  the  morals 
and  aims  of  democracy.  To  frown  and  to  be 
grateful  that  one  is  not  like  certain  pleasure- 
seeking  millionaires  is  not  much  of  a  comfort, 
especially  when  it  is  obvious  that  the  ignorant 
and  semi-ignorant  mass  is  fascinated  by  the  ex- 
travagances and  worldly  manifestations  of  the  in- 
dividuals in  question,  and  has  made  them  its  he- 
roes on  account  of  their  unadulterated  millions. 
Indeed,  the  self-respefting,  patriotic  American 
citizen  finds  himself  to-day  veritably  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis  in  the  matter  of  the  con- 
duit of  life.  We  are  no  longer  the  almost  homo- 
geneous nation  we  were  fifty  years  ago.  There 
are  far  greater  extremes  of  wealth  and  poverty. 
Our  economic  conditions,  or  at  least  the  condi- 
tions which  exist  in  our  principal  cities,  are  closely 
approximating  those  which  exist  in  the  cities  of 
the  Old  World.  Outside  of  our  cities  the  people 
for  the  most  part  live  in  respeftable  comfort  by 
the  praftice  of  what  passes  in  America  for  econ- 
omy, which  may  be  defined  as  a  high  but  igno- 
rant moral  purpose  negatived  by  waste  and  do- 
mestic incompetence.  It  has  always  been  true  of 
our  beloved  country  that,  though  the  ship  of 
state  has  seemed  on  the  point  of  floundering 
[  310  ] 


T'he    ConduEi    of  Life 

from  time  to  time,  disaster  has  invariably  been 
averted  at  critical  junftures  by  the  saving  grace 
of  the  common-sense  and  right-mindedness  of 
the  American  people.  This  is  not  so  complimen- 
tary as  it  sounds.  It  really  means  that  the  aver- 
age sense  and  intelligence  of  the  public  is  apt  to 
be  in  the  wrong  at  the  outset,  and  to  be  con- 
verted to  the  right  only  after  many  days  and 
much  tribulation.  In  other  words,  our  safety  and 
our  progress  have  been  the  result  of  a  slow  and 
often  reluftant  yielding  of  opinion  by  the  mass 
to  the  superior  judgment  of  a  minority.  This  is 
merely  another  way  of  stating  that,  where  every 
one  has  a  right  to  individual  opinion,  and  there 
are  no  arbitrary  standards  of  condud  or  of  any- 
thing else  outside  the  statute  law,  the  mean  is 
likely  to  fall  far  short  of  what  is  best.  Our  sal- 
vation in  every  instance  of  national  perplexity 
has  been  the  effedual  working  on  the  public  con- 
science of  the  leaven  of  the  best  Americanism. 
A  comparatively  small  proportion  of  the  popu- 
lation have  been  the  pioneers  in  thought  and  sug- 
gestion of  subsequent  ardent  espousals  by  the 
entire  public.  This  leaven,  in  the  days  when  we 
were  more  homogeneous,  was  made  up  from  all 
the  elements  of  society ;  or,  in  other  words,  the 

[311  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

best  Americanism  drew  its  representatives  from 
every  condition  of  life;  the  farmer  of  the  West- 
ern prairie  was  just  as  likely  to  tower  above  his 
fellows  and  become  a  torch-bearer  as  the  mer- 
chant or  mechanic  of  the  city. 

If  we  as  a  nation  have  needed  a  leaven  in  the 
past,  we  certainly  have  no  less  need  of  one  to-day, 
now  that  we  are  in  the  flush  of  material  prosper- 
ity and  consciousness  of  power.  Fortunately  we 
have  one.  The  public-spirited,  nobly  indepen- 
dent, earnest,  conscientious,  ambitious  American 
exists  to-day  as  indisputably  and  unmistakably 
as  ever,  and  he  is  a  finer  specimen  of  humanity 
than  he  used  to  be,  for  he  knows  more  and  he 
poses  much  less.  It  is  safe  to  assert,  too,  that  he 
is  still  to  be  found  in  every  walk  of  our  national 
life.  The  existence  of  an  aggravating  and  frivolous 
aristocracy  on  the  surface,  and  an  ignorant,  un- 
sesthetic  mass  underneath  should  not  blind  us  to 
the  fad  that  there  is  a  sound  core  to  our  social 
system.  The  hope  of  the  United  States  to-day 
lies  in  that  large  minority  of  the  people  who  are 
really  trying  to  solve  the  problems  of  life  from 
more  than  a  merely  selfish  standpoint.  One  has 
merely  to  think  a  moment  in  order  to  realize 
what  a  really  numerous  and  significant  body 
[  312  ] 


The    ConduSi    of  Life 

among  us  is  endeavoring  to  promote  the  cause 
of  American  civilization  by  aspiring  or  decent 
behavior.  Our  clergymen,  our  lawyers,  our  doc- 
tors, our  architefts,  our  merchants,  our  teachers, 
some  of  our  editors,  our  bankers,  our  scientists, 
our  scholars,  and  our  philanthropists,  at  once 
stand  out  as  a  generally  sane  and  earnest  force 
of  citizens.  The  great  educational,  charitable,  ar- 
tistic, and  other  undertakings  which  have  been 
begun  and  splendidly  completed  by  individual 
energy  and  liberality  since  the  death  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  bespeak  eloquently  the  temper  of  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  the  community.  If  it  be  true  that 
the  so-called  aristocracy  of  New  York  City  threat- 
ens the  repute  and  sincerity  of  democracy  by  its 
heartlessness  and  unworthy  attempts  to  ape  the 
vices  of  a  fifteenth-century  European  nobility, 
New  York  can  fairly  retort  that  it  offers  in  its 
working  force  of  well-to-do  people  the  most  vi- 
tal, interesting,  sympathetic,  and  effedive  force 
of  men  and  women  in  the  nation.  If  the  Paris  of 
America  contains  the  most  dangerous  element 
of  society,  it  also  contains  an  element  which  is 
equal  to  the  best  elsewhere,  and  is  more  attrac- 
tive than  any.  The  New  York  man  or  woman 
who  is  in  earnest  is  sure  to  accomplish  some- 

[  Z^Z  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

thing,  for  he  or  she  is  not  likely  to  be  handi- 
capped by  ignorant  provincialism  of  ethics  or  art 
which  plays  havoc  with  many  of  the  good  inten- 
tions of  the  rest  of  the  country. 

This  versatile  and  interesting  leaven  of  Ameri- 
can society  finds  its  counterpart,  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  in  every  seftion  of  the  United  States, 
but  it  is  nowhere  quite  so  attraftive  as  in  the  Paris 
of  America,  for  the  reason  that  nowhere  does  the 
pulse  of  life  move  so  keenly  as  there,  and  no- 
where is  the  science  of  living  absorbingly  so  well 
understood.  The  art  of  living  has  there  reached 
a  more  interesting  phase  than  in  any  part  of 
America,  if  zest  in  life  and  the  facilities  to  make 
the  most  of  it  are  regarded  as  the  test. 

This  may  sound  worldly.  The  people  of  the 
United  States  used  to  consider  it  worldly  to 
admire  pidures  or  to  listen  to  beautiful  music. 
Some  think  so  still.  Many  a  citizen  of  what  was 
lately  the  prairie  sits  down  to  his  dinner  in  his 
shirt-sleeves  to-day  and  pretends  to  be  thankful 
that  he  is  neither  an  aristocrat  nor  a  gold-bug. 
The  next  week,  perhaps,  this  same  citizen  will 
vote  against  a  national  bankrupt  law  because  he 
does  not  wish  to  pay  his  debts,  or  vote  for  a  bill 
which  will  enable  him  to  pay  them  in  depreciated 
[3H] 


The    ConduSi    of  Life 

currency.  Many  a  clergyman  who  knows  better 
gives  his  flock  consolingly  to  understand  that  to 
be  absorbed  in  the  best  human  interests  of  life 
is  unworthy  of  the  Christian,  and  that  to  be  or- 
dinary and  unattraftive  is  a  legitimate  condition 
of  mind  and  body.  Surely  the  best  Americanism 
is  the  Americanism  of  the  man  or  woman  who 
makes  the  most  of  what  this  life  affords,  and 
throws  himself  or  herself  keenly  into  the  thick 
of  it.  The  art  of  living  is  the  science  of  living 
nobly  and  well,  and  how  can  one  live  either  no- 
bly or  well  by  regarding  life  on  the  earth  as  a 
mere  log-cabin  existence?  If  we  in  this  country 
who  seek  to  live  wisely  are  in  danger  from  the 
extravagant  vanities  of  the  very  rich,  we  are 
scarcely  less  menaced  by  that  narrow  spirit  of 
ethical  teaching  which  tries  to  inculcate  that  it 
does  not  much  matter  what  our  material  sur- 
roundings are,  and  that  any  progress  made  by 
society,  except  in  the  direftion  of  sheer  morality, 
is  a  delusion  and  a  snare. 

Charafter  is  the  basis  and  the  indispensable  re- 
quisite of  the  finest  humanity;  without  it  refine- 
ment, appreciation,  manners,  fancy,  and  power 
of  expression  are  like  so  many  boughs  on  a  tree 
which  is  dead.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  what  is 

[315] 


T'he    Art    of  Living 

more  uninspiring  than  an  unadorned  soul  ?  That 
kind  of  virtue  and  morality  which  finds  no  inter- 
est in  the  affairs  of  this  life  is  but  a  fresh  con- 
tribution to  the  sum  of  human  incompetence, 
and  but  serves  to  retard  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion. The  true  and  the  chief  reason  why  there  is 
less  misery  in  the  world  than  formerly  is  that 
men  understand  better  how  to  live.  That  straight- 
laced  type  of  American,  who  is  content  to  be 
moral  in  his  own  narrow  way,  and  to  exclude 
from  his  scheme  of  life  all  those  interests  which 
serve  to  refine  and  to  inspire,  bears  the  same  re- 
lation to  the  ideal  man  or  woman  that  a  chromo 
bears  to  a  masterpiece  of  painting. 

We  have  no  standards  in  this  country.  The 
individual  Is  free  to  express  himself  here  within 
the  law  in  any  way  he  sees  fit,  and  the  condud 
of  life  comes  always  at  last  to  an  equation  of  the 
individual.  Each  one  of  us  when  we  awake  in 
the  morning  finds  the  problem  of  existence  star- 
ing him  anew  in  the  face,  and  cannot  always  spare 
the  time  to  remember  that  he  is  an  American. 
And  yet  Americanism  is  the  sum  total  of  what 
all  of  us  are.  It  will  be  very  easy  for  us  simply 
to  imitate  the  civilizations  of  the  past,  but  if  our 
civilization  is  to  stand  for  anything  vital,  and  to 


The    ConduEi    of  Life 

be  a  step  forward  in  the  progress  of  humanity, 
we  must  do  more  than  use  the  old  combinations 
and  devices  of  society  in  a  new  kaleidoscopic 
form.  Our  heritage  as  Americans  is  indepen- 
dence, originality,  self-reliance,  and  sympathetic 
energy  animated  by  a  strong  ethical  instinft,  and 
these  are  forces  which  can  produce  a  higher 
and  a  broader  civilization  than  the  world  has  yet 
seen  if  we  choose  to  have  it  so.  But  it  is  no 
longer  a  matter  of  cutting  down  forests  and  open- 
ing mines,  of  boasting  beside  the  plough  and 
building  cities  in  a  single  year,  of  fabulous  for- 
tunes won  in  a  trice,  and  of  favorite  sons  in  black 
broadcloth  all  the  year  round.  It  is  a  matter  of 
a  vast,  populous  country  and  a  powerful,  seeth- 
ing civilization  where  the  same  problems  confront 
us  which  have  taxed  the  minds  and  souls  of  the 
Old  World  for  generations  of  men.  It  is  for  our 
originality  to  throw  new  light  upon  them,  and 
it  is  for  our  independence  to  face  them  in  the 
spirit  of  a  deeper  sympathy  with  humanity,  and 
free  from  the  canker  of  that  utter  selfishness 
which  has  made  the  prosperity  and  glory  of  other 
great  nations  culminate  so  often  in  a  decadence 
of  degrading  luxury  and  fruitless  culture. 

No  civilization  which  regards  the  blessings  and 

[  317  ] 


The    Art    of  Living 

comforts  of  refined  living  as  unworthy  to  be 
striven  for  and  appropriated  can  hope  to  pro- 
mote the  cause  of  humanity.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  Americans  must  remember  that  purely  selfish 
appropriation  and  appreciation  of  these  blessings 
and  comforts  has  worked  the  ruin  of  the  most 
famous  civilizations  of  the  past.  Marie  Antoi- 
nette was  more  elegant  than  the  most  fashionable 
woman  in  New  York,  and  yet  that  did  not  save 
her  from  the  tumbrel  and  the  axe.  The  best 
Americanism  of  to-day  and  for  the  future  is  that 
which  shall  seek  to  use  the  fruits  of  the  earth 
and  the  fulness  thereof,  and  to  develop  all  the 
manifestations  of  art  and  gentle  living  in  the  in- 
terest of  humanity  as  a  whole.  But  even  heart- 
less elegance  is  preferable  to  that  self-righteous 
commonness  of  spirit  which  sits  at  home  in  its 
shirt-sleeves  and  is  graceless,  ascetic,  and  unim- 
aginative in  the  name  of  God. 

T  H   e       E   N  T> 


D.  B,  Updike 

The  Merrymount  Press 

104  Chestnut  Street 

Boston 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
TQ^B^     202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 


ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

l-monthloansmay  be  renewed  by  calling  642- J4U5 

6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  br„.g,ng  books  o  Orcula, on  Desk 

Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  pnor  to  due  date 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


IQft'^ 


RETP    AUU    gB8Z 


SEP  12 1983 


UCLA 


IHimifiE^ 


in  lotftr!^*^' 


■'"•'  '  OiBH 


0CTiOl9[a 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  12/80        BERKELEY,  CA  94720  ^^ 


LD  21-20m-6,'32 


YB   16299 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


